


A Chant of Blood and Light

by Elia41



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Coming of Age, Compromise, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Intrigue, Multi, No Keyblades (Kingdom Hearts), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Saving the World, Sora is the Inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25281508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elia41/pseuds/Elia41
Summary: Hollow Bastion: the Kingdom Key acknowledges Riku as its true bearer. Forced to join him, Donald and Goofy can only watch as the teenager discards Sora with a spell in the stomach. Sora falls, never to be seen.The Frostback Mountains: a group of mages and Templars on the way to the Conclave notice a shooting star. instead of finding a meteor, however, they find a lost teen with oddly-spiky hair.With no friends and no home, Sora thought he could carve himself a spot in the world of Thedas. He would end up its savior.
Relationships: Sora & Cassandra, Sora & Sera, Sora & Solas, Sora & Varric, Sora & Vivienne
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	1. Prologue

“Let the Keyblade decide which of us is its true master!”

Riku held a hand. The Kingdom Key appeared in Sora’s hand and vanished to reappear in Riku’s. Sora couldn’t believe it. Neither could Donald and Goofy. Riku looked at the weapon.

“Maleficent was right. You don’t have what it takes to save Kairi. I’m the one who shall do it.”

“That’s… That’s impossible!” Sora gasped. “This can’t be happening! I’m the one who fought all this way with the Keyblade!”

“You were just the delivery boy.” Riku retorted. “Your duty is done. Go play hero with this.”

He threw the wooden sword at Sora’s feet. The boy looked at the toy in disbelief. It couldn’t be possible! He was the one who’d wielded the Keyblade until now! He had used it to fight the darkness, save the worlds, protect people! Why did it choose Riku over him!?

Donald looked at Goofy.

“Come on. We mustn’t forget our mission.”

Goofy winced.

“I know the king told us to follow the key, but…”

Donald gave him a heavy look. Goofy sighed and followed the duck, who sided with Riku.

“Sorry, Sora.”

Riku smirked.

“Thanks for your help, Sora. We have no need for you anymore, so be nice and **_get lost!_** ”

Before Donald or Goofy could react, the teen threw a sphere of dark fire in Sora’s stomach. The kid was caught by surprise. The strength of the spell threw him overboard. Something hit him and everything became black…

_The history of Thedas is a chant written in blood, sung by dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts. It is a dark world, with a heart full of darkness blacker than night. But if Thedas’s darkness is mighty, its light is enduring. For every crisis, a hero stands – for each calamity, a savior. Though weak, Thedas’s light is not so easily extinguished. It slumbers, an ember waiting for a brave heart to pick it. Then it will shine. Its victories are short-lived and the darkness easily takes over, but it resists. It shines._

_Waiting for the one who shall carry it._

Somewhere in the Frostback Mountains

Revered Mother Sophia was on the way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes with an escort of Templar and mages when she saw the shooting star. Her gaze followed its trail and was surprised to see it land a few kilometers away from the road. One of the Templars turned to the priestess.

“Would you like to take a look?”

“Good idea. It won’t be that much of a delay.”

Along with her escort, Sophia headed to the star’s landing site. She found no crater or meteor. Instead, half-covered by the snow, was a young boy with spiky brown hair, dressed in strange red and white clothes. The boy was apparently unconscious, and didn’t react when the Templar took him in his arms.

“He looks young.”

“And sad.” A mage noted.

A silver pendant in the shape of a crown was hanging on his neck. He was surprisingly frail, Sophia noted, and his clothes looked unlike anything they’d ever seen.

“Let’s take him with us.”

Everyone was wondering where the young boy came from. They decided to wait until he woke up.

Sora awoke in a large tent. The first thing he felt was the cold. Wherever he was, it was freezing around. Fortunately, the clothes he wore were warm – Hey, wait…! How can you be warm in mountains when you are wearing shorts and a short-sleeved jacket? This was the second thing he noticed: his clothes had been changed. Mainly green and brown in color, they were made of a light leather armor covered by a vest, brown pants and a tissue scarf. Boots were at the end of the sleeping bag he was in.

He looked around. The tent was well-furnished, with a desk on which a man in armor and a woman in red and white alb and a tall hat were working. There were other sleeping bags, all empty, and other tables on which were books and potions. Sora rose and put on the boots. They were his size. The man and the woman turned to him.

“Good to see you awake, young man.”

“Thank you.” Sora answered softly. “Where am I?”

“In the Frostback Mountains, on the way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I am Reverend Mother Sophia, and this is Knight-Captain Jeremiah.”

The man in armor nodded. Sora did the same. The priestess looked at the teen.

“What is your name?”

“…Sora.”

“Sora?”

“Just Sora.”

The priestess raised a brow.

“Where do you come from? We found you unconscious in the snow. Your clothes were… unusual, I admit.”

His clothes hadn’t changed when changing worlds? Weird. Not willing to mention the other worlds, Sora decided to be as evasive as possible.

“I come from far. _Very_ far. I don’t really want to say more.”

“It’s your decision.” Sophia softly said.

She could clearly see the sorrow in his deep blue eyes. From them came a feeling of innocence that didn’t leave her unmoved. She came closer to Sora.

“Your heart is troubled, child. What happened? I see a profound sadness in you…”

Riku’s betrayal and his theft of the Keyblade came back to Sora’s mind. He tensed suddenly. His grimace told the priestess much.

“It’s recent, and extremely painful.” Jeremiah couldn’t help but note.

“…They abandoned me.” Sora bitterly said. “Donald, Goofy and Riku. They gave up on me. I have nothing now. No friend… No family… No home…”

Sophia and Jeremiah looked at one another. The child was completely bereft.

‘ _Do we keep him?_ ’ The captain asked.

‘ _Why not?_ ’ The Reverend Mother answered on the same tone.

She gave Sora a tender look.

“How about you come with us, then? I am certain you’ll find a place by our side.”

The teen’s gleaming eyes were all they needed to see to know his answer.

The Temple of Sacred Ashes was still several days away. Sora didn’t know how to ride, but Jeremiah showed him the basics. He never stopped asking the Knight-Captain and Reverend Mother questions about the world around them, the history, the places, the people.

This is how he learned about the war between Mages and Templars. Led by the Senior Enchanter Neliel, an elven Spirit Healer, the mages that were with them sought peace and had made a truce with the Templars. Sora timidly showed them his magic, just like he showed Jeremiah his meager knowledge of swordsmanship. The Templar was disturbed to know someone gifted with magic could use a sword, but he carried on regardless and, while the mages showed Sora how they used magic in Thedas, the Knight-Captain taught him the basis of swordsmanship. Sophia appreciated the open-mindedness of the boy and happily answered his questions.

Then they reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Sora was speechless.

“It’s… amazing! It’s huge!”

His eyes filled with wonder made Sophia, Neliel and Jeremiah feel warm. He turned to them.

“Can we go visit it? Please!”

“Of course. This is where the Conclave is happening.”

The group headed to the Temple.

A few hours later, the sky burst apart.

* * *

For information, this story isn't listed as translation of _Un Cantique de Sang et de Lumière_ because I'm writing and updating both at the same time, to keep my translating skills sharp. Feedback, especially in that regard, is appreciated.


	2. Broken Sky

_Those who oppose thee_   
_Shall know **the wrath of heaven**._   
_Field and forest shall burn,_   
_The seas shall rise and devour them,_   
_The wind shall tear their nations_   
_From the face of the earth,_   
_Lightning shall rain down from the sky,_   
_They shall cry out to their false gods,_   
_And find silence._   
_Andraste , 7:19_

It was the pain that woke Sora up. For some reason, his left hand was hurting him, as if he had a Thunder spell right below the skin.

The flash of green light that followed a burst of pain told him it wasn’t Thunder. Spells using lightning had a purple or yellow color. He tried to move, only to notice his wrists were bound by thick cuffs. The teenager tensed. What was going on!? The room was dark, almost enough to drive him blind. The only source of light came from is hand. He could hear nothing but its crackles.

The door opened. Only then did Sora notice the armored shapes around him. He gave his hand a quick look. What had he done to end there? His last memories were leaving Sophia, Neliel and Jeremiah to explore the Temple… Two women came, one brown-haired in armor while the other was a hooded redhead. The armored brunette seemed rather pissed. She knelt to his level.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you here and now...”

Sora gulped.

“I don’t even know what I did.”

“Really? I’ll tell you: the Conclave has been destroyed. Everyone attending it is dead… except for you.”

Sora froze.

“Dead? That’s… No. That can’t be. Everyone was fine when I left. What happened?”

“Don’t act innocent!”

The warrior tried to grab him but the redhead held her.

“Cassandra, restrain yourself! He’s just a child!”

Sora’s hand shone again, causing a burst of pain.

“What is that?” He asked. “It hurt!”

“What’s your last memory?” The redhead asked.

Sora hesitated.

“I was in the Temple of Sacred Ashes with Mother Sophia, Jeremiah and Neliel. The place was imposing, so I left to explore a bit. Then, nothing.”

“Nothing at all?”

“At all. My memory’s blank.”

Cassandra turned to the redhead.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I’ll take him to the Breach.”

“What exactly happened?” Sora asked.

“It will be simpler to show you.”

She removed the cuffs but kept his wrists bound by rope. Sora wondered if he could burn them. Then she took him outside and he understood.

In the sky was a gaping hole from which a swirl of green light fell. The sight was terrifying. Instinctively, he moved closer to Cassandra.

“We call it the Breach.” The warrior explained. “It is a giant rift leading to the world of dreams which keeps growing by the hour. It isn’t the only one, merely the biggest. All of them were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

Sora remembered what Neliel had taught him about the Fade. It was one of the first things he’d learned on Thedosian magic, the interactions between the real world and the Fade as the Veil kept them apart. And now, there was a hole in the barrier between the two worlds. It was anything but a good new.

“How could someone do this? Even if the Veil was weakened, to go so far as to outright puncture it…”

“One would have required an astonishing amount of power.” Cassandra finished. “Whoever caused this cataclysm obviously had it. And the Breach keeps growing.”

“What can we do to close it? If we can…”

He wondered for a moment if the Keyblade could have done it and regretted he was no longer its wielder. The magical weapon would have been really useful in that situation…  
His thoughts were cut short as the Breach shuddered and sent a violent wave of pain in his hand. Sora screamed and fell on his knees.

“The greater the Breach becomes, the more your mark spreads.” Cassandra explained. “It is killing you. The mark may be the key to closing this rift, but we have little time.”

“Then it’s not even a question. I don’t know what I got to do in this, but it’s not like I have a choice.”

Cassandra smiled. The teen was reasonable. They crossed the camp under the scornful gaze of the crowd. It didn’t matter to them that Sora was a child. To them, he alone was the culprit. Cassandra was starting to doubt it. Sora neared her, intimidated.

“They believe you to be guilty.” The warrior explained. “They need a culprit and you are our main suspect. The death of Her Holiness, Divine Justinia, shook everyone. The Conclave was her idea.”

“Everyone wanted peace between mages and the Templars.” Sora said softly. “They came to the Conclave in the hopes of getting it. Neliel was fond of the idea. She never wanted war.”

“Those people are rare… and now they’re dead. The leaders of both sides and the heads of the Chantry as well, caught in the explosion.”

Sora felt a knot in his stomach. Sophia, Neliel and Jeremiah were in the Temple when he left. He sincerely hoped they were fine.

“I’m worried for them.”

Once more, Cassandra wondered if the teenager was truly responsible. The mark on his hand was bound to the Breach, but his behavior didn’t fit a terrorist. He worried about his friends and had immediately volunteered to help. She undid the rope.

“Come on, your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.”

Sora massaged his wrists and followed the warrior, ignoring the glares of the crowd. They walked a snowy path, ignoring the chaos above their head. The noise disturbed the teen, who tried to pay it no mind. He just wanted everything to end. The sight of burned carriages and the stench of ozone and burned flesh didn’t remotely help. Cassandra helped him stand after a particularly harsh burst.

“How did I survive? I must have been at the Temple during the explosion.”

The warrior winced.

“People say… you got out of a rift before passing out. A woman was behind you, but nobody knows who. The whole valley is in ruins, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

“That’s sad.” Sora uttered. “It was amazing. But I have no memory of… getting into the Fade. Isn’t it impossible, to physically cross the Veil? And the last time it happened… Mother Sophia told me, with the Magisters, the Black City and the Blight. You shouldn’t do it. It’s a bad idea.”

“That’s putting it lightly but you’re right. However, our current situation is doing its best to defy all logic.”

Sora nodded. They were crossing a bridge when a green meteor struck and made it collapse. He and Cassandra rolled in the frozen river and rose in time to see a demon arise from a second meteor. Cassandra drew her sword, ready to fight. Sora, being disarmed, prepared to call upon his magic to support her when a new meteor crashed before him. A demon rose from it. The teen gulped… His sight fell on a nearby sword. It would do.

The demon rushed. Sora dodged and swung his sword at the creature’s neck. It barely reacted. Sora winced. The sword was much less powerful than the Keyblade, but he’d have to get used to it. The key-weapon was no longer his anymore. He’d have to do with what he had, namely: his spells and his humble fencing skills. He threw a fire spell at the demon’s face and, as the monster reared, thrust his sword as deeply in its body as he could. Then he hacked until the being was no more.

Meanwhile, Cassandra was done slaying her opponent but she was panting and had a small cut on her arm. Instinctively, Sora cast a healing spell. The gentle warmth caught the warrior by surprise. She turned to see the teen, his hand still extended, the sparks of the spell fading between his fingers while his right hand held the sword. For a moment, she was surprised that a mage knew how to use a sword.

Then she realized the teenager was now armed.

“Drop your weapon! Right now!”

Sora let the sword fall at once.

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Cassandra was going to add something but she didn’t. Sora had been cooperative so far and he was only a child. She had to protect him but, with the demons, she wasn’t sure she could do it.

“Wait… Take back the sword. There are more demons ahead and I’ll feel safer knowing you can defend yourself. Besides… you volunteered to help us. I shan’t forget that.”

Sora nodded, retrieved the sword and followed the warrior across the valley. His sword inflicted little damage against the demons and Cassandra was clearly a better swordsman than he was, but his Thunder spells were invaluable against the magic barriers of the wraiths and his healing spells allowed her not to worry too much as she charged her foes. Cassandra had to admit she had seen better but, given her partner’s youth, she had expected worse.

“By the way, how old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

She would have given him ten or twelve. Anyway, Sora wasn’t an adult. They finally reached the smaller rift. Sora watched the phenomenon. The rift had taken the shape of a cluster of emerald crystals floating in the air, slightly coated in green smoke. A group of fighters made of a handful of soldiers, a bald elven mage and a hairy-chested dwarven crossbowman were fighting shades and wraiths in the middle of the ruined building where the rift had appeared. Sora and Cassandra joined them, Sora weaving his healing magic on the heavier-wounded fighters while Cassandra drew the demons’ attention to herself, allowing the fighters to use the distraction to their advantage.

The demons dead, the elven mage took the teen’s hand.

“Hurry before more get through!”

Sora immediately felt the mark react to the rift. It was as if the magic in his hand was sewing back the Veil where the rift had torn it. The pain in his hand was unpleasant, but the satisfaction of having repaired the Veil was compensation enough. He breathed.

“Well, looks like it worked. Is that what you wanted to see, Cassandra?”

“Indeed. It seems Solas’s theory was right.”

The elven mage smiled. Sora understood he was Solas.

“If we’re lucky, the mark should also work on the Breach.” Solas reckoned. “Our salvation lies in the hands of a child. I admit I wasn’t expecting this part.”

“I didn’t ask to find myself in that situation.” Sora grumbled. “All I wanted was to explore the Temple.”

“That’s how many adventures begin.” The dwarf smiled. “Let me introduce myself. I am Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.”

He gave Cassandra a wink. She groaned. Sora looked at them.

“What are you doing there? Are you with the Chantry or…”

Solas barked a laugh.

“With the Chantry? Now, that’s a good one!”

“Technically…” Varric explained. “I am captive just like you.”

“I brought you here so you could tell your story to the Divine.” Cassandra retorted. “This is obviously no longer necessary.”

“And still I’m here. Given the situation, that’s not a bad thing.”

Sora looked at the dwarf’s weapon.

“…Nice crossbow.”

“Isn’t she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together. And this is just the beginning.”

Sora raised a brow. The crossbow had a name? At the same time, so did the Keyblade. He couldn’t really afford to make remarks. Cassandra shook her head.

“Varric, it’s out of question. We appreciate you r help, but…”

“Seeker, have you been in the vale, recently?” The dwarf retorted. “Your men control nothing. You need me.”

Cassandra reluctantly agreed. Solas had kept his eyes on Sora.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive after all that happened.”

“He means he’s the one who kept the mark from killing you in your sleep, Spiky.” Varric translated.

“Oh… Thanks, then.”

“You’re welcome.” Solas turned to Cassandra. “Seeker, the magic we see looks like nothing I’ve ever seen. This child may be a mage, but his magic is simply too weak to have caused the explosion. In fact, I doubt that a mage, no matter how powerful, could have caused such a blast.”

“Got it. Now, let’s go. The forward camp is waiting ahead.”

They left the ruin to cross the frozen river. Demons were everywhere. Fortunately, Cassandra, Varric and Solas were trained fighters. Sora wasn’t heavy-handed either, but his lack of experience was obvious compared to the others. Demons were much different from the Heartless and his sword wasn’t as sharp as the Keyblade. This is why he focused on magic.

“By the way…” Varric noted. “What’s your name, Spiky? I don’t think I heard it.”

“It’s Sora.”

“Only Sora? No last name?”

“No.”

No one had last name on the Islands. Sora was no exception.

“Where do you come from?”

“I’d… rather not talk about it. Anyway, it no longer exists, and my family went missing along with it.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Varric hesitated.

“What about your friends?”

The memory of Donald and Goofy switching sides to Riku and his rival throwing a dark fireball in his stomach came back to his mind.

“None.”

“So, you have no one left. What were you doing here, then?”

“I was following Revered Mother Sophia, Neliel and Jeremiah to the Conclave. They had found me after… after my _friends_ abandoned me.”

Varric could tell right away the teen was hiding something. But, between the shattered sky and the pain the memories brought back, he decided to save his breath. Sora would open up when he felt ready.

They finally reached the forward camp. Unfortunately, a rift was in front of the entrance. Sora inhaled, ignoring the burning sensation in his throat. He wasn’t used to cold. The weather of Destiny Island was tropical. Along with the others, he killed the demons and used the mark to close the rift. The pain made him use a healing spell on his hand. To his surprise, the pain faded.

Cassandra took them inside the camp. Leliana was there, in a heated discussion with a Chantry member. The man was obviously hostile, which was confirmed when he tried to send Sora to Val Royaux to be punished. Leliana and Cassandra quite simply refused.

“Order me? You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!”

“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry.”

“Err, say…” Sora timidly asked. “When are we going to deal with the hole in the sky?”

“Shut up, you brat!” Roderick harshly retorted. “No one told you to shut up when adults were talking?”

Sora bristled. Cassandra and Leliana responded the same.

“Don’t use that tone with him!” Cassandra growled.

“Don’t listen to him.” Leliana reassured. “Chancellor Roderick has no power whatsoever. He can do nothing against us.”

Small comfort after the verbal thrashing he’d gotten. The chancellor tried to convince them to give up and flee. Cassandra decided to keep going. They needed to close the Breach at all cost. Sora agreed. The pain in his hand served as a reminder of what was happening in the sky. So he held on and followed the warrior across the vale. No time to cross the mountain. They were in a hurry. They joined the soldiers in their offensive, Sora using his magic to keep alive as many people as he could. The sight of body bags still reminded him he wasn’t almighty. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t save everyone. He focused on those he could, granting them the time his healing offered. The rift on their path was no harder to close than the others.

“You’re getting quite handy with this, if I may say.” Solas smiled.

The pun made a small smile appear on Sora’s face. Varric approached them.

“Now, let’s hope it’ll work on the big one.”

“It should.”

A man in armor lined with fur approached Cassandra.

“Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift? Well done.”

“Don’t thank me, Commander. This is Sora’s work.”

The Commander was tall, blonde and strong of built. Sora felt really small.

“I still can’t believe a child is at the heart of this matter. At least, he can handle himself.”

“I know.” Sora timidly said. “I’m doing what I can.”

The Commander nodded.

“I admit I’m not expecting more of a child. It isn’t an insult… Cassandra, the path is clear. Leliana will catch up with you there.”

“We will be quick.”

“Good. May the Creator watch over you.”

As they left, Sora saw him support one of his wounded men. The closer they got to the Temple, the more worry gnawed at him. What happened to Sophia, Neliel and Jeremiah? Had they left the Temple before the explosion? Had they been inside? What had become of the Temple anyway? Cassandra had said the Temple had been destroyed, but there had to be something left of it…

Or not?

They reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes and Sora’s worry became dread. The roof was completely gone. The earth was burned out under his feet, and it was nothing compared to the still-burning corpses, twisted in a position of agony. The teenager looked around, desperately seeking any sign of life.

“Sophia! Neliel! Jeremiah!”

The names of his caretakers echoed between the ruined walls. He ran, terrified, shouting their names until he lost his voice. Cassandra watched him, sorrow in her eyes. Then he stopped near a corpse more or less intact than the others, that of a Templar. Carefully and with quivering hands, he removed the helmet…

Despite being half-burned, he managed to recognize Jeremiah. There were two corpses under his, as if the Knight-Captain had tried to shelter them with his body. The colorful mage dress and the red and white suit left no doubt about their identity.

Sora fell to his knees and wept.

Casandra watched him in silence. Varric turned to her.

“Do you still believe him responsible, Seeker?”

“No. He is innocent.”

They let Sora mourn, the teen’s tears falling on dried land. Eventually, Sora rose and took Jeremiah’s sword. It wasn’t too damaged, so he undid his belt and replaced his borrowed sword with the Templar’s.

“Yet the mark on his hand is the same magic that opened the Breach.” Solas noted. “It cannot be a coincidence. This kind of magic is too rare.”

“Then either the explosion was an accident, or someone else caused the explosion and Sora ended with the mark during the chaos. In any case, Sora cannot have caused the explosion, not directly and _certainly not_ willingly.”

Varric hoped Cassandra was right. Solas doubted it but, at the same time, Sora was a child. And he felt something strange in him. His Fade sense was tickled by an odd feeling coming from the teen. He wondered what it was.

The group finally reached the Breach. The hole in the sky was spreading wide above their head. Right beneath was a large cluster of emerald crystals in constant mutation, cloaked by a slow energy vortex. The sound of glass echoed with every alteration of the cluster. Sora had to admit the sight was rather disturbing. He turned to Solas.

“How do we close that?”

“The rift before us is the first, and thus the key. Sealing it should seal the Breach.”

Cassandra turned to him. Sora nodded, steadfast. For Sophia, Neliel and Jeremiah, he had to succeed. Leliana joined the group along with a crew of scouts that positioned themselves around the Breach. As they began to descend, voices echoed. Solas frowned.

“Echoes. The Fade bleeds into our world, and with it the events that unfolded.”

Varric noticed a cluster of red crystals.

“Err, Seeker? Watch out, this stuff is red lyrium.”

“I noticed, Varric.”

Sora edged the cluster.

“Is it dangerous?”

“You have no idea. Stay back, Spiky. This stuff can drive you crazy.”

Sora obeyed. Varric obviously knew what he was talking about. As they got closer, the voices became clearer before becoming pictures when they reached the Breach.

_The Divine was bound by a spell, a shrouded shape standing before her._

_“Hold the sacrifice.”_

_“Somebody help me!”_

_“What’s going on!?”_

Cassandra immediately recognized Sora’s voice, as well as his spiky-haired figure.

“ _Who – What are you!?” The teen gasped._

_“My child!” The Divin begged. “Please, save me!”_

_Sora drew his sword. The figure growled._

_“Insolent! Stop him!”_

The vision ended, leaving the spectators speechless. Cassandra was the first to speak.

“You were indeed here. The Divine called you for help and you came to rescue her. You are undoubtedly innocent.”

“I remember nothing...” Sora sighed.

Solas watched the rift tied to the Breach.

“It is closed but not sealed, like a badly treated wound. The mark should allow us to open it, then seal it properly. The sole issue is that opening the rift risks drawing the attention of the denizen of the Fade.”

“In other words, demons.” Cassandra summed. “Everyone gets ready!”

Everyone got in position. Sora held his hand. He could feel the Veil around him, worn and torn. The rift gave the feeling of a badly-patched hole. He tried to canalize the power of the mark and, rather than pulling, he pushed to force the hole open. It worked. The rift tore itself and, as Solas foretold, a demon emerged. Sora froze at the sight.

“A pride demon…” Cassandra uttered.

The creature was huge and visceral in looks, ill-proportioned and horned. Its six eyes fell on Sora, who still drew his sword. The creature was otherwise more frightening than Heartless.

At Leliana’s signal, the archers opened fire. Varric and Solas pelted the demon with bolts and spells as Cassandra brought her shield against the monster’s claws. Sora, not wiling to get close to the monster, focused on support. His Cure spell hit Cassandra as she rose from a blow of electric whip. The Seeker nodded and blocked a lightning sphere with her shield. Two of Varric’s bolts hit the demon’s eyes while Leliana shot a third. Solas raised a barrier against the electric assault of the demon and threw an emerald green fist at its face, stunning it before one of its paws could fall upon Cassandra.

The rift shook and a distinct hole appeared in the air. The Seeker turned to Sora.

“Now! Close the rift!”

Sora nodded and held a hand to the hole. An energy link appeared between the two. Sora thought the mark would drain him dry when he felt his mana run through his hand to feed the strange magic.

In a blinding flash, the rift closed. The last thing Sora saw was Solas kneel over him…


	3. The Eye and the Blade

_**I cannot see the path.** _   
_Perhaps there is only abyss._   
_Trembling, I step forward,_   
_In darkness enveloped._   
_Trials 1:13_

When Sora awoke, it was in a comfortable bed rather than a bedroll. The change was welcome – the blanket was warm. He was about to fall back asleep when the later events came back to his mind and made him jump.

The Temple of Sacred Ashes was gone. There was a hole in the sky. His left hand was imbued with the sole magic capable of closing it. Sophia, Neliel and Jeremiah were dead. This part was the hardest to swallow. This world wasn’t his. Without the help of the Reverend Mother, the Senior Enchanter and the Knight-Captain, what was he going to do now? He had no one to rely on…

Or maybe not. He had met people. Cassandra, Varric, Solas, Leliana… He could turn to them. It was worth a try. But where were they, and how long had he been asleep? Had he succeeded in closing the Breach?

He saw his clothes folded on a chair. Jeremiah’s sword was unfortunately missing. He made a mental memo to ask Cassandra where it was and changed. He had just finished when an elven servant entered the room and took them both by surprise. The servant immediately fell on her knees.

“My lord, I beg for forgiveness. I didn’t know you were awake.”

“No need to use this tone.” Sora reassured. “What’s going on?”

The servant reluctantly stood.

“Lady Cassandra told me to find you. If you were awake, she told me to tell you she was waiting at the Chantry. _As soon as he wakes_ , she said.”

“Alright. Where are we, by the way? What about the Breach?”

“We are in Haven. The Breach… It stopped growing, like the mark on your hand, but it’s still in the sky. That’s what people say. Everyone talks about it.”

Sora sighed. They had failed. The servant scampered, obviously terrified. Why, Sora had no idea. He decided to head to the Chantry and find Cassandra. If he had to defer to someone, it was her. He left the small house and froze when he saw the crowd carefully aligned along the path, two soldiers standing at attention before the stairs. Sora gulped and hurried up, his head low. He didn’t know what was going on and the crowd’s behavior was intimidating him. Several times, he caught the term Herald of Andraste. What did Andraste have to do with it?

In the sky, the Breach still appeared as a wide green-glowing hole. At least, it was stable. He reached the Chantry, doing his best to ignore the whispers. Cassandra was in the building, and she wasn’t alone. Sora could hear the voice of chancellor Roderick in a full-blown argument with the Seeker. He winced at the words. The chancellor wanted to see him chained and judged and Cassandra stubbornly refused. To her, he was but a child. He entered the room. Roderick reacted instantly.

“Guards, seize him! I want to see him sent to the capital right now!”

“You will do nothing of the likes.” Cassandra retorted.

The guards chose to listen to her and left. Roderick growled.

“You are playing with fire, Seeker.”

“The Breach is stable, but it’s still a threat. I will not ignore it.” She turned to Sora. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine.” The teen said softly. “Sorry I couldn’t do better.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Cassandra asked. “Coming from a child, I was expecting less. You’re stronger than you look.”

Sora blushed a little. Leliana shook her head.

“The threat still remains. The Breach is stable, but we have no idea who caused it. If we’re lucky, the culprit died at the Conclave, but they could have allies…”

Her gaze lingered on the chancellor who crossed his arms.

“Are you suspecting _me?_ ”

“You, and many others.”

“But not the brat.”

“We heard the voices in the Temple.” Cassandra retorted. “Her Holiness called for his help.”

“And you are going to say this is all coincidence.”

“Providence. The Creator sent him to help us.”

Sora nearly choked. Him? Sent? Yeah, right… Last time he had thought himself chosen, he had been brutally brought to his place. He wouldn’t make the same mistake. The mark on his hand was an accident and nothing else.

“I don’t think I was chosen.” He said softly. “I think it was more an accident, and I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all.”

Cassandra shook her head. Obviously, she didn’t agree.

“And yet, you found yourself here, and you hold our only hope of salvation.”

Leliana nodded.

“She is right. The Breach is still there and your mark is our only way to close it.”

“This isn’t for you to decide!” Roderick retorted.

Cassandra’s answer was clear. She took a huge book decorated by an eye in a sun.

“You know what it is, chancellor: a writ from the Divine, giving us the authorization to act. As of now, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach, find those responsible and reestablish order – with or without your approval.”

She gave the chancellor a threatening glare. Knowing he’d lost, Roderick chose to leave the room, but not without a final jibe.

“Good luck succeeding… with a _brat_.”

Sora danced on his feet.

“He’s… not completely wrong. I can close the rifts with the mark but, for the rest, I’m not as good a fighter as you, Cassandra, or as good a mage as Solas. And I’m anything but a leader. I have no experience that could help you.”

Leliana winced. He wasn’t wrong.

“Those things are learned.” Cassandra reassured. “You won’t be alone. We will be there with you. We will guide you.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all we can ask.”

Leliana sighed.

“Those are the Divine’s orders: restore the Inquisition of old, find those who would stand against chaos… but we’re not ready. We have no leader, no men, not even the Chantry’s support.”

“But we don’t have a choice.” Cassandra decided. “We must act, with Sora’s help.”

Sora sighed.

“It’s not like I have a choice. I have nowhere to go and no one to turn to. And even if I got this mark by accident, I can still use it to help. I’ll stay and do my best. But… don’t expect me to make wonders.”

“We would be wrong to ask for more. I still can’t believe our salvation lays in the hands of a child. But that can be arranged. I hope you learn fast.”

“I’m not top of my grades, but I manage.”

“Then we’ll do with it.”

Word went fast: the Inquisition had been restored, and its goal was to close the Breach. What they had was little. Haven was a small pilgrim village, not remotely made to welcome troops. Cullen and Cassandra took on themselves to change that while Leliana managed the flow of information and Josephine Montyliet, the Antivan diplomat, set to establish a contact network. Amidst everything, Sora didn’t really know what to do. After all, even with the mark, he remained a kid with no real experience.

Once everything was settled, Cassandra invited him to meet the Inquisition’s command. Though he knew them by face, he had never properly met the leaders of the organization. They gathered in the room at the end of the Chantry. Cullen smiled when he saw him.

“Good to see you’re doing fine. To be honest, I didn’t think a child could survive the Breach, but it seems you are tougher than you look.”

Sora blushed.

“I know…”

“Commander Collen leads the Inquisition’s armed forces.” Cassandra explained. “He is a former Templar and a veteran of the war.”

Sora politely nodded. Cassandra turned to Josephine.

“Lady Josephine Montyliet is our ambassador and master diplomat.”

Josephine made a half-smile.

“I was told the Herald of Andraste was a child, but I thought these were just rumors. Obviously, I was wrong.”

“Sora believes he received the mark by accident. I prefer to think it was providence. We have divergences of opinion on the matter. Anyway, Sora is lacking in experience but still decided to help. We have to remedy it.”

Josephine shrugged.

“Everyone needs to start somewhere. It’s not a problem. I’m just a little surprised. Besides, I heard about leaders who were younger than that. How old?”

“Fourteen.”

“Much younger.”

“But no more competent.” Sora noted.

“That can be arranged.”

Finally, Cassandra turned to Leliana.

“And this is Sister Leliana, who you already met.”

“My duties involve a certain amount of…”

“She’s our spymaster.”

Leliana made a face.

“ _Thank you_ , Cassandra.”

Cassandra turned to Sora.

“How’s your mark?”

“It tickles once in awhile, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good.”

The group gathered around the table. A map was set on it which represented Ferelden, Orlais, the Free Marches and the south of Tevinter. Cassandra crossed her arms.

“The mark can close the Breach, but it will need more power. Alone, we’ve seen what happens.”

“How long was I unconscious, by the way?” Sora asked. “And where is my sword?”

“Three days, and your sword was damaged so I gave it to the blacksmith.”

“I got it with me.” Cullen smiled. “It belongs to a Knight-Captain. Finely crafted. It will serve you well.”

“Jeremiah was one of the people who took me in.” Sora softly explained. “He died so, when I meet the one responsible for the Breach, I’d like to stick it between their ribs to make them pay.”

“Understandable.” Leliana nodded. “Many are those who lost treasured ones at the Conclave. Many want payback, you included. But before, we need to seal the Breach and, for this, we need the help of the rebel mages.”

“And I still think the Templars will do just fine.” Cullen retorted.

“We need more power, Commander.” Cassandra reminded. “If we channel enough magic in the mark…”

“It could destroy us. The Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it…”

“This is only guesswork.” Leliana retorted.

“I was a Templar. I know what they can do.”

“Why not both?” Sora offered. “Mages to amplify the power of the mark and Templars to keep it under control. Would it work?”

“…It would be a good compromise.” Josephine admitted. “Unfortunately, none of the groups wants to talk. The Chantry condemned the Inquisition, especially you.”

Sora raised a brow.

“Why that?”

“Because some people call you the Herald of Andraste and this frightens the Chantry. The surviving priests called it blasphemy and are calling us heretics for sheltering you.”

Sora thought he would choke. At least, he knew where the term came from.

“This is crazy! What makes them think so, anyway?”

“People saw what you did at the Temple, how you kept the Breach from growing.” Cassandra explained. “They also heard about a woman, who was in the rift where they found you. They think it was Andraste.”

Sora searched his memories, in vain. Leliana shook her head.

“The rumors have spread, and we’ve done nothing to discourage them. End result, many people believe it was Andraste herself who saved you from the Breach.”

The teen shuddered. The memory of his adventure besides Donald and Goofy came back to his mind. He had believed himself to be the Keyblade Wielder, chosen by the mystical weapon to save the worlds. To say he’d been disappointed was an understatement.

He wouldn’t repeat the mistake.

“That’s quite the title for a child.” Cullen noted. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t want it.” Sora sharply said. “It isn’t that I believe or not in Andraste, but I wasn’t chosen by anything. I received the mark by accident.”

Cassandra grumbled but kept quiet. Leliana sighed.

“People are in desperate need of a sign. To them, you are this sign whether you want it or not.”

“I’m not saying I can’t do anything, only that I wasn’t _chosen_.”

“People won’t make a different.” Josephine said softly. “To many, it would take a miracle to improve things. A child surviving the Breach and possessing the only magic capable of closing it, with a mysterious woman watching over him, is enough to send the imagination of the more faithful running – and teasing the others’.”

Sora shrugged. He knew he wouldn’t win the argument.

“What about the Breach? What do they think of the real threat?”

"They know it’s a threat, but they don’t think we can do anything about it.” Cullen explained.

“Then we’ll show them they’re wrong. That’s what we’re here for, right? What must we do?”

“A Chantry priestess by the name of Mother Giselle asked to talk to you.” Leliana answered. “She isn’t far, and she knows the names of those involved better than I do. Her help would be invaluable.”

“Then let’s go. When do we leave?”

“Not right now.” Cassandra harshly said. “We aren’t in that much of a hurry, and the recent events were grueling. We will wait a bit until you recover and find your marks in Haven. Then, we’ll go.”

Sora didn’t argue. As they left, Cullen gave him back his sword. He tied it to his belt. The commander gave him a look.

“You’ll need a new armor. Those clothes give little protection, even for a mage. I asked Harritt to make you something a little more fitting.

The forge was outside the town’s walls. Harritt, the blacksmith, was a bald and mustached man. Hammer in hand, he turned to Sora.

“So, it’s true. The Herald is a child. I don’t like the idea of having a child in the frontlines, but I got the idea you don’t really have a choice.”

Sora and Cullen shook their head. The blacksmith shrugged.

“I finished the armor. Commander, you told me the kid used both sword and magic, so I mixed things up. The armor is mainly made of leather and tissue, light enough so an inexperienced child could wear it without tiring, and mobile enough to allow him to dodge. I still added a scale coat on the chest for some measure of defense, since I got in the idea our Herald won’t settle with staying at the rear throwing spells…”

“Correct.” Sora confirmed.

Harritt showed his work. The armor was carefully folded on a box. Sora took it and followed Cullen to a tent where he could change quietly. When he got out, the commander appreciatively nodded. The pants and vest were made of green tissue while the long mid-sleeve coat, the gloves and the boots were made of brown leather. The coat was open, except around the waist where a belt kept it closed. One could see beneath a scale chest-piece that gleamed under the sun. The armor was tough, but also warm and comfortable. It was also a bit loose.

“You’re at the age of growth spurts. I’m willing to bet my hammer it will be too small by the end of the year!” Harritt laughed.

His point stood.

Since Cassandra had decided to postpone their departure, Sora had to find a way to get busy. It wasn’t hard. There was no shortage of jobs in Haven. He met the staff: Adon the alchemist, quartermaster Threnn, Minaeve the researcher, Seggrit the trader, Flissa the innkeeper… He even fulfilled requests for Threnn, who appreciated the “Herald of Andraste” was humble enough to lend a hand. To Sora, it wasn’t a question of humility. He just wanted to be useful. Josephine playfully pointed most high-ranking people had no problem leaving their underlings do the job.

“But I don’t have underlings.” Sora retorted. “I’m just the one who can close the rifts. Why would I believe myself above others?”

The diplomat nearly winced. The teen knew nothing about politics. She decided to remedy that. When Cassandra went looking for Sora, she found him in a seat next to the ambassador, carefully listening to her lesson about high society. She waited until Josephine was done to make herself be known.

“Oh, Cassandra? Did you want something?”

“I’d come looking for Sora to train, but I didn’t want to interrupt. Given his role, it’s true he has to learn the basics of _politics_.”

Her tone was barbed.

“Is there a problem, Cassandra?” Sora asked softly.

“Not really. It’s just that I’m not overly fond of the matter, even if I do acknowledge its importance.”

Josephine nodded and let the teenager follow Cassandra. The Seeker took him to the training grounds.

“I noticed you can use a sword.” The warrior explained. “However, your technique is far from perfect. Where did you learn to fight?”

“On the island, with my friends.” Sora answered.

“So, you never received real training?”

“No. Most of what I know, I learned fighting Riku, Tidus and the others, as well as… during the war. Against the Templars.”

It was a white lie, but he couldn’t admit to the Seeker he came from another world. So, he had learned to fight and use magic during the war between mages and Templars.

“I see. You also know how to use magic… Were you part of a Circle?”

“No. My magic awoke a few weeks ago.”

“So, after the beginning of the war. No wonder you were never trained. Let’s remedy that.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon training. Cullen watched them from afar. Sora had some of the basics, but they were far from enough. Crossing swords with Cassandra made him realize how much he looked like an amateur. The Seeker was strict, but also good teacher.

“Stay on the move. Your armor doesn’t allow you to tank blows to try dodging them instead. I’d suggest you used a shield, but you need your left hand to cast spells. Speaking of, maybe I should ask Solas to teach you… Since your magic is self-taught, you are technically a hedge mage, a sorcerer. Hedge magic is notoriously unpredictable, so I’ll feel more at ease knowing a mage is teaching you.”

“But Solas is an apostate who never went to a Circle.” Cullen noted.

“Maybe, but his skills need no further proof, and we have to account for the mark. Solas is our best bet.”

Fortunately, the elf didn’t say no when Cassandra asked him to handle Sora’s magical training. Quite the opposite, in fact, the idea seemed to please him. Cassandra gave him but one condition: that she could watch the lessons. Competent as Solas may be, she still didn’t trust him that much.

“This is perfectly understandable.” Solas simply said. “I am an apostate, after all. To be honest, I didn’t expect you would entrust Sora to me. Still, thanks.”

It quickly turned out that, along with his knowledge of the Fade, Solas had real practical knowledge of magic. It was convenient for Sora, who had quickly discovered Tedosian magic didn’t exactly work like the magic of his birth-universe.

“To what I can see, you draw the energy from the Fade and give it the shape your mind pictures. A crude technique, and mentally exhausting because it requires a lot of willpower. The spells you use, though akin to known spells, are at best pale imitations born of distant observation and self-teaching. Had you kept going, I daresay your magic would have become a rough copy of the Circle mages’.”

Sora winced. Solas didn’t mince his words.

“This said, we don’t need to cast everything out. Your biggest issue is the coarseness of your technique. You’ll just need to refine it. Focus. Do you feel the Veil around you?”

“Yes. It feels a little like cotton cloth… but it’s everywhere around me, and it feels somewhat frayed.”

“That is because of the Breach. Now, instead of seizing the energy from the Fade, let it flow like a river. Here, like that. Now, picture a shape and _nudge_ the energy into it. Don’t try to impose your will by force. Be firm, yet soft.”

A small sphere of green light appeared in Sora’s hand. Solas raised a brow.

“Usually, it’s fire.”

“Too destructive. I wanted something harmless.”

Cassandra didn’t hide her smile.

Five days after the founding of the Inquisition, Sora, Cassandra, Solas and Varric hit the road. Their goal: the Hinterlands.


	4. The chaos of war

The work of man and woman,  
By hubris of their making.  
 **The sorrow a blight unbearable.**  
Threnodies 7: 11

They traveled for several days before they reached the Hinterlands. Lead Scout Harding was waiting for them at the Outskirts Camp.

“What’s the situation?” Cassandra asked.

“Thinks look bad.” The scout winced. “Templars and Apostates have gone insane. They’re attacking everyone without care. Most refugees have gathered at the Crossroad, a hamlet below. Mother Giselle is with them, but she refuses to leave them.”

Sora looked afar. He couldn’t help but compare wars in Thedas and his birth universe. Though, could he really call what he’d gone through in his universe a war? A conflict, maybe. A war, he didn’t know.

“Another thing.” Harding added. “Commander Cullen asked me to find Dennet, the former horsemaster of Redcliffe. Everyone says Master Dennet’s beasts are the fastest and toughest this side of the Frostbacks but, with the conflicts, we couldn’t make contact.”

“Then we have two goals.” Sora summed. “Find Mother Giselle and reach Master Dennet. Where is he?”

“West from there. Unfortunately, this is where the fighting is the fiercest.”

The teen nodded. Cassandra, Varric and Solas at his side, he headed to the Crossroad. They had barely reached the hamlet that trouble found them in the shape of a violent three-way fight between Templars, Apostates and the Inquisition forces. Sora swallowed his disgust and forced himself to cast his spells. He hated the thought of killing people, but war was what it was. Those he killed today wouldn’t go and kill refugees tomorrow. He fought, his sword biting flesh as his spells kept the people on his side alive. After what felt like eternity, the fight calmed down. He fell on his knees. Varric came to him.

“You alright, Spiky?”

“I kinda want to throw up…”

“You’re not used to killing, uh?”

“Demons are fine. People aren’t the same. I try to rationalize, but…”

“I understand. It’s never easy, at first. But you’ll get used to it. You will, or else…”

He didn’t need to finish. Sora knew perfectly what he meant. He had to get used to killing, lest he be the one to end as a corpse. And he couldn’t afford it. In the meantime, the Inquisition’s forces set their standard in the middle of the Crossroad. The hamlet was now under their protection. Sora went looking for Mother Giselle and found her tending to the wounded. There had been casualties among the people of the Crossroad as much as among the refugees.

The priestess was brown-skinned and wore the red and white clothes of high-ranking priestesses. Her dark eyes gazed upon Sora.

“What can I do for you, my child?”

“You wanted to see me.”

Surprise ghosted over the Mother’s face.

“So, the Herald of Andraste is indeed a child. I thought those were just rumors and you were merely young, but it seems rumors were right, this time.”

“You’re not the first one to say that.”

They walked through the hamlet. Mother Giselle didn’t know if talking politics with a teenager was a good idea, but he was still the Herald. She decided to tell him what she knew.

“I know of the Chantry’s denouncement, and I’m familiar with those behind it. I won’t lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances to become the next Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…”

“I know it all too well.” Sora winced.

Jeremiah’s sword, restored by Harrit, was hanging by his side. Sophia, Neliel, Jeremiah. He wouldn’t forget their names. Mother Giselle nodded.

“You lost loved ones at the Conclave, didn’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“My sword belongs to the Templar who took me in. There was a Revered Mother and a Senior Enchantress with him. All wanted peace. I will never forgive the one who did it.”

“I understand… Herald –“

“Sora. That’s my name.”

“Sora, fear makes us desperate but hopefully not beyond reason. Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe.”

“Are you sure it’s gonna work?” Sora softly asked.

“You needn’t convince them all.” Mother Giselle reassured. “You just need some of them to doubt. Their power is their united voice. Take that from them and you’ll receive the time you need.”

“Thank you.”

The priestess hesitated.

“I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us, but I hope. Hope is what we need now.”

Sora made a face.

“I don’t believe I’m the chosen one of anything. That I have this mark is pure hazard. But I can help people and I’ll do it. It’s all that matters to me.”

“Indeed, people will judge you more by your deeds than your words. I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana with the name of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. I shall meet you there.”

Sora nodded. The first part of their mission was complete: they had found Mother Giselle. Now, for the second part: to find Master Dennett.

He went looking for Varric, Solas and Cassandra. Solas was helping the wounded with his healing skills. Cassandra was close, and deep in talk with two mages. She turned to him when he got close. To Sora’s great surprise, the warrior was smiling.

“Sora! How did it go with Mother Giselle?”

“She is heading to Haven to help us handle the priestesses.”

“Good.” She turned to the mages. “Galyan, Avexis, this is Sora. It’s thanks to him that we could close the Breach.”

Galyan was a human Senior Enchanter dressed in a green and brown robe that had seen better days. His brown hair, long enough to reach his shoulder blades, was untied while his sky blue eyes were observing Sora. A designer stubble had begun growing on his chin.

“Sora, is it? Nice to meet you.”

“He looks older than me during Frenic’s scheme.” Avexis smiled.

The spellcaster was an elf with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her pale blue robe was worn and her face was tired. A withered flower was behind her ear.

The two mages looked exhausted, but they were holding on. Cassandra smiled back at Avexis.

“It’s true that Sora is older than you were back then. However, his responsibility is greater…”

“Closing the rifts… I admit I’m not an expert in magic that has such a direct influence over the Fade.”

“Me neither.” Galyan admitted. “When I see what happened to the Conclave, I think it’s a good idea I refused Fiona’s request that I represent the rebel mages. I would have been at the Temple, and…”

Cassandra winced.

“You’d have bit it. You haven’t told me how you and Avexis ended here.”

“Very simple. Fiona and I had different opinions on the apostates that were ransacking the countryside. Fiona preferred to hole in Redcliffe. I believed we were responsible about the situation and, if we couldn’t bring our brethren back to reason, we had to at least help the inhabitants of the Hinterlands. Fiona refused, so Avexis and I left. We didn’t expect to find you there, Cassandra.”

“Me neither. It’s a good thing.”

The warrior’s smile was full of mirth. It was the first time Sora was seeing her so happy. Avexis turned to the men of the Inquisition who had begun helping the refugees.

“The Inquisition, uh? I vaguely heard about it during my studies. They say the Order was disbanded following the Nevarran Accords. But you restored it.”

“Someone has to bring back order.” Cassandra sighed. “At first, we were just meant to put a stop to the hostilities if the Conclave failed. But the Breach opened and our role changed. We close the rifts the Breach created while looking for the culprit.”

“That’s basically what Avexis and I were trying to do.” Galyan smiled. “Does it mean we’re welcome in?”

“Of course!”

Sora watched the pair head to the camp the Inquisition had set in the hamlet. He turned to Cassandra.

“Do you know them?”

“Yes, I have for many years. Galyan and I are… I wouldn’t call each other intimate, but we’re close. As for Avexis, in a way, we basically raised her. The biggest issue is that mages aren’t allowed to have a family…”

Otherwise, there was no doubt Cassandra and Galyan would have become a couple, with Avexis as their adoptive daughter. He hadn’t expected the fierce warrior had such a side to her. Under her harsh looks, Cassandra had a surprisingly tender heart.

“Now that Mother Giselle joined us, our next step is to find Master Dennet. Harding said he was located west from here…”

“Where the fighting’s most intense.” Sora looked around. “Cassandra, the refugees look like they got it really bad. You think we got time to help them?”

“This would be a good thing to do.” Varric smiled. “Helping the refugees would improve the Inquisition’s reputation – and it’s more or less our job anyway, so we better get started. From what I heard, those poor folks are lacking food, warm clothes and a good medic.”

“They have a medic.” Cassandra noted. “Galyan is a Spirit Healer. And if they need remedies, elfroot, embrium and blood lotus are found aplenty in the area.”

“We must think about the rifts.” Solas reminded. “We will equally help the refugees by bringing them supplies as by securing the countryside.”

“And that’s along with finding Master Dennet.” Sora inhaled. “We’re not gonna get bored…”

Rams could easily be found in the southern hills. It was also where the recruit Whittle had noticed apostate caches that could easily serve the refugees. Sora decided that, given all the mayhem they’d caused, they weren’t going to care. So, they combed the area, hunting rams and laying claim on any cache they could find. And if the apostates wanted to argue, it just so happened that Cassandra and Varric wanted a word with them…They set two camps, the first at Lake Luthias, near Calenhad’s Foothold, and the second at Dwarfson Pass.

It turned out that the skulls atop pikes they’d found left and right led to strange shards – which weren’t always easy to access. Cassandra had to give Sora a lift at least twice. No one knew what the shards did, but Cassandra was certain Josephine or Leliana knew someone who would have answers. They didn’t know what the astrarii were for either, but Sora found it fun to connect the dots to make constellations. It was a game to him. Cassandra didn’t deprive him of the fun.

Then they reached Winterwatch.

They were greeted by a human, Anais. The woman weighted up Sora.

“I heard about you. People call you the Herald of Andraste because of what you did at Haven. But are you really? The Maker told me nothing.”

Cassandra growled.

“A Chantry sect.”

Sora hesitated. He was strongly tempted to say no, but Cassandra was surely going to argue. He chose to remain vague.

“Some say I am. The Chantry says I’m not. Personally, I don’t care. I can close the rifts and it’s all that matters.”

“Really? You don’t deny having this power?”

Sora held his hand. The green glow of the mark could clearly be seen, a thin gap in his palm. Anais frowned.

“Prove it, then. Show me this power you hold, to bend the rifts to your will.”

The bastion’s huge wrought-iron gate opened. Sora and his friends entered, ignoring the whispers of those who saw them pass. The rift was located at the end of the keep, in a collapsed tower. Demons appeared as soon as he got close, a fury demon and a handful of shades. Solas immediately unleashed ice against the ardent entity as Varric made one shot-two kills. Fortunately, Bianca was automatic. Cassandra’s blade dug deeply in a shade while Sora killed the last with a fire spell. The rift shook.

“The second wave is coming!” Solas warned.

He cast a barrier spell on the group. The moment a lesser terror appeared, Sora hacked with all his strength. Then the mark warned him of an alteration in rift energy right below his feet… He jumped aside reflexively, narrowly dodging the attack of the second terror. Varric stuck three bolts in the demon’s back. Finally, Cassandra beheaded the last terror. The emerald cluster turned into a noticeable crack in the air. Sora held a hand and watched the threads of energy knit back the Veil. Strangely, the deed caused him but an annoying tingling. Compared to the pain from last times, this was an improvement.

Anais had watched the fight. As soon as the group caught its breath, she came to them.

“Maker’s tears, I was wrong to doubt you. You truly hold the power they say you do. Herald of Andraste, we are at your service. How may we serve?”

Sora hesitated. He didn’t really like it when people called him the Herald of Andraste. When they also began worshipping him, it outright put him ill at ease. He was about to ask them to help the refugees when Cassandra put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“Tell the believers to spread the word of the Inquisition.”

Anais glared at her.

“I didn’t ask you. I asked the Herald.”

“Sora is young.” Cassandra retorted. “Even though he is the Herald, some decisions are too important for him to take.”

Sora growled.

“Thank you. After all, it’s true I’m just a kid. You only need me as a figurehead and to close the rifts. If someone else could do it…”

He hurried out in brisk paces, leaving the fort before Cassandra could answer. Varric winced.

“I understand your opinion, Seeker, but that was still not very nice.”

Cassandra sighed.

“Children…”

Solas said nothing. Instead, he focused on Sora’s words. The teenager was bitter. Something troubled his heart and he instinctively felt it was an issue they would have to address sooner or later, least it blew up to their face. Sora was right: they needed him. But how much did Sora need them? He had chosen to stay because he had the power to help them and nowhere else to go, having lost his family and his home during the war. If he found a new home, how long before he left? Before he decided his service was no longer required?

His thoughts didn’t leave him during the trip back to Lake Luthias. Sora sulked for most of the trip. Varric decided to remedy that.

“So here we are, elf, cleaning up another human mess.”

Solas raised a brow.

“What would the Inquisition do without our stabilizing influence, Master Tethras?”

“I assume they’d just start burning things.”

“That does sound like most humans I know.”

Cassandra grumbled.

“If you gentlemen are quite finished?”

“Now, now, don’t get grouchy.” Varric reassured. “We’re just here to lend you simple humans our help.”

“Before you cause everything to explode.”

“Again.”

Sora held a chuckle. Varric grinned and winked at Solas. As they edged Calenhad’s Foothold, Sora turned to him.

“Solas, you wondered what dreams you could catch at the fortress, right? Why don’t you go dream a little while we give the food and supplies to the refugees?”

“Oh… Thanks. The offer is unexpected, but I appreciate.”

Solas left the group to set his bedroll in the ruin. After hesitating a moment, Cassandra sent two men from Vale’s irregulars to watch over him. Not that she didn’t trust him, far from it, but she still felt ill-at-ease knowing he had no one to watch over him in his sleep. With mages and Templars like cats and dogs in the area, she preferred to be cautious. Vale was more than happy to give them his finest men. The food and supplies they had brought, along with Galyan and Avexis’s help, ensured the people of the Crossroad were safe. He owed them that much.

Now remained the less entertaining part, at least as far as Sora was concerned. Varric armed his crossbow.

“Let’s do some cleanup.”

A missive found on a Templar told them their bastion was somewhere on the western road. So, they went and combed the area, Sora replacing Solas as the team’s mage. They had just destroyed a red lyrium vein in Fort Connor when Templars fell on them. Varric shot one down, Cassandra killed another with a sword strike in the eye and Sora impaled the third with an ice spell. The fourth injured Cassandra on the arm. Sora raised a hand to cast a healing spell… The magic sputtered out, catching the teen by surprise. He tried again, in vain. Magic seemed to dilute in the air the moment he drew it out of the Fade.

“Cassandra, I can’t make it!”

“Use your sword!”

Sora turned. The Templar that was shutting his magic rushed him. He jumped aside and struck the throat. The blow set the Templar off-balance, only to be shot in the head by a bolt. Cassandra killed her opponent and came to Sora, who was tediously catching his breath.

“Are you alright?”

Sora called his magic once more. It answered and, this time, didn’t dilute. He healed the warrior’s wound and nodded.

“I knew Templars could cancel magic, but it’s the first time I’m the victim of it. It’s unpleasant.”

“At least, you can use a sword.” Varric noted. “Most mages don’t have this chance. Cut off their magic and they are powerless. You have nothing to fear on this side.”

Still, the feeling of his magic diluting in the air after he drew it from the Fade was as unpleasant as it was frustrating, especially when he wanted to cast a supporting spell. If the failing spell was aggressive, no problem, he had his sword. But a supporting spell? If he cast it, it was because his friends needed help and he couldn’t give it to them. He was thus in a rather foul mood when they finally found the Templars’ stronghold. They showed no mercy. Next on the list were the mages. According to a missive, their hideout was in the Witchwood. If fighting Templars was rather classical sword-against-sword, fighting mages turned to be something else entirely.

A mage cast a fire spell toward Varric. Sora stepped between them and countered with an ice spell. Before Varric could shoot, Cassandra rushed the apostate and felled him in one blow. Unlike the Templars, spellcasters were vulnerable from up close.

“If you fight a mage…” Cassandra taught. “You must close with him, regardless of the danger, or risk being overwhelmed. To hold back is to give him time to alter the battlefield in some fashion, and we know that the warrior who controls the battlefield is most often the victor. You must keep him reacting to you and continue your attack.”

Sora took her words to heart and saved his magic for support, favoring his sword to kill the apostates. He couldn’t rival the destructive power of his opponents, but he could dampen it with his own magic. Night was falling when they left the Witchwood and set camp near Redcliffe’s farms.

“The road is clear.” Varric smiled. “We did good work. I wonder how Chuckle’s doing.”

“I’m fine, Master Tethras. My dreams in the Foothold were very interesting despite a slight interruption.”

The trio turned to Solas, who came to them along with his two bodyguards. Cassandra raised a brow.

“An interruption?”

Solas smirked. The two soldiers seemed ill-at-ease. One of them decided to explain the mishap.

“We were watching over Ser Solas as you’d asked when a handful of thugs attacked us. There were too many of them, so we decided to take the risk of waking him up. I’m sorry, by the way. You seemed deep asleep and that’s the only thing that came to my mind.”

“Though unpleasant, the water flask on the face still managed to draw me out of the Fade… against my will. I wasn’t in a good mood but, when I saw the thugs…”

“Seeker, if I may say…” The second soldier shuddered. “Never _ever_ wake Ser Solas with a start. Ever. I still don’t know what spell he threw at those morons’ head but it killed them all at once. I swear it’s the first time I see burning stones fall from the sky!”

Cassandra gave Solas a funny look. He shrugged.

“I was in a bad mood.”

“Then he cleaned his face, dried his clothes and went back to sleep. Leif and I had never seen something like that before.”

“I woke up shortly before twilight.” Solas explained. “Caporal Vale told me you’d gone to do some cleaning by the west road. Following your tracks wasn’t hard.”

“Indeed.” Cassandra confirmed. “The Templars and apostates are gone. The Hinterlands should be safer now.”

They spent the night at the camp. They went to find Master Dennet the next day. The old man was as bald as Solas, his dark skin tanned by outdoors work. His sharp eyes scanned the group.

“So, the Inquisition is indeed there. I heard you were bringing order back in the area. About time someone took care of it… but I wasn’t expecting there be a kid with you. He must be good, for you to let him tag along.”

Varric held a laugh. Cassandra herself seemed amused.

“Sora is the Herald of Andraste. He can close the rifts, and his sword and his magic are indeed of great use.”

Dennet gave the teen a weird look.

“…No kidding?”

“No kidding.” Varric confirmed.

Dennet winced a little.

“I got a daughter, Seanna. A brave kid and the apple of my eyes. If she’d gotten herself in such a mess, I don’t know how I’d have reacted. Where are his parents?”

“Gone, along with his home.”

“Oh… You better take good care of him, then. That’s not the kind of situation a child should find himself in.”

“Not gonna tell you otherwise.” Varric said softly.

Dennet nodded.

“Back to business. I heard the Inquisition needs horses. I’m willing to help, but I can’t send a hundred of the finest horses of Ferelden like you send a mail – it’s too risky. Every bandit between here and Haven would be drawn to them like flies to honey. I’m willing to give you mounts, but only once you can guarantee they won’t end in a stew.”

Sora shrugged.

“Alright. What do we do?”

Dennet frowned.

“My wife, Elaina, is handling the farms while Bron is tasked with guarding them. Find them. They’ll tell you what to do. In the meantime…” A smile crossed his face. “If the Herald is truly a kid, he deserves a mount his size. The piebald over there is a Dalish All-Bred: hardy, sure-footed and fiercely loyal. Take care of him and he’ll take care of you.”

A white horse with dark brown spots was patiently waiting in the stable. Sora harnessed it like Jeremiah had taught him. He wasn’t that good a rider, but horses were the most common means of locomotion across Thedas, along of course with foot and carriage. So, the Templar had taught him the basics, but he was far from Cassandra’s level. Elaina was waiting for them in the garden.

“I heard what my husband said. If you want our horses, you need to make sure our farmers are safe in their fields.” She sighed. “Since the Breach appeared, wolves have gone mad. They attack our men like rabid beasts. If you could take care of them…

Solas sighed. Sora turned to him, curious.

“I don’t like it.” Solas explained. “Wolves are noble and intelligent creatures who prefer to avoid trouble. I wonder what drove them insane.”

Next, they went to find Bron. The apprentice wanted to arm refugees, but Dennet refused as long as they couldn’t defend themselves efficiently. Bron had thus come up with the idea of setting watchtowers so the farms and the refugees could be forewarned.

“That’s a good idea.” Cassandra admitted. “I’m sure Cullen would be glad to take care of it.”

So, they went after the wolves. Solas seemed to share a bond with the creatures. When they found the pack, a group of eight wolves with red eyes and ebony fur, the apostate came closer. Rather than leaping at his throat, the wolves stepped aside, some even whining. They bluntly refused to get close to the group as long as Solas was with them. No one complained, though Cassandra couldn’t help but wonder. They finally reached the pack’s den. Sora felt the mark stir.

“There’s something nearby. Be on your guards!”

That something turned to be a lesser terror. Solas growled.

“This creature controls the pack. Kill it, and the wolves should go back to their senses.”

No one needed persuading. Varric unleashed a rain of bolts on the creature while Cassandra called a pillar of light. Solas sent an emerald fist at the demon’s face, a clear expression of what he thought of its deeds. Sora had nothing so flashy. He settled for rushing the monster and hacking until the terror collapsed. A wolf lept at Varric’s exposed back… Sora noticed and cast an ice spell that brushed the dwarf’s shoulder to impale the wolf in the mouth. Varric nearly jumped.

“Watch it, Spiky!”

He turned and noticed the dead wolf.

“Oh… I see. Thanks.”

The demon dead, the wolves quickly calmed down.

“The farmers should be safer, now.” Cassandra smiled. “As for this one… A shame we had to kill it. Bah, the fur won’t be lost.”

Solas gave her a look. The Seeker explained.

“The fur is rather pretty. Besides, I noticed Sora often shivers in Haven. I know the weather is cold, but he seems to be even less used to it than the others. A warm coat would do him good. And Fereldians like to line their clothes with fur.”

“You think he’s Fereldian, Seeker?” Varric asked. “He lacks the accent.”

“I’d edge for Rivaini. He mentioned an island, in the past, and Rivain is known for its free customs, especially toward magic. I would have said Antivan at first, but he lacks the accent and the skin tone. This said… maybe he has elven origins. It would be explanation enough.”

“At least, he isn’t Tevinteri. That’s a start. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be there.”

The wolf’s carcass with them, they informed Elaina and headed back to Haven. They still had a lot to do.


	5. Lithurgically political

_First among the Old Gods was Silence._   
_His least whisper could end wars or topple Archons._   
_**A single word could turn recrimination into glory.** _   
_The sacred fires of his temple burned_   
_Race incense, and the trees of Arlathan, and lapped at the bones of slaves_   
_While his altars dripped with the blood of sacrifices that never dried._   
_Silence 1:1_

Returning to Haven was quicker than going. Still, their troubles were not over yet. Solas entrusted the corpse of the black wolf to Harritt so he could make a coat for Sora. Then they headed to the Chantry. Cullen was arbitrating an argument between mages and Templars, who accused each other of causing the Breach.

“Enough! Stop arguing! You are no longer Templars or apostates but members of the Inquisition. You must work together.”

“You seem to be doing fine so far.” A honeyed voice laced with venom spoke.

Cullen growled.

“Already back, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough already?”

“I am merely wondering, Commander, how the Inquisition and its ‘Herald’ are going to restore order as you promised.”

“Of course… Come on. Back to work, everyone.”

Cassandra grunted in disgust. Sora shook his head.

“We secured the Hinterlands. Doesn’t this count as a start?”

Roderick glared at him. Cassandra glared right back. Things were clear: as long as the Seeker was at his side, no one touched Sora.

“What do you mean by ‘secured’, if I may ask?”

“The refugees are stocked with food and supplies and the apostates and Templars who were threatening them are no longer a problem.” Solas answered. “I agree with Sora, that’s a start.”

Roderick grumbled. They had won this round.

“It doesn’t change the fact we need a real leader if we want to go any further.”

“Who? You?” Cullen asked, dubious. “A clerk not important enough to even be at the Conclave?”

“You believe this rebellious Inquisition and its so-called Herald of Andraste are better?”

“At least, we’re doing something instead of twiddling our thumbs!” Sora sharply retorted.

“We _cannot_ act, you brat. Not without a leader.”

“But we can. So we are taking action _in your stead_.”

Roderick had to hold himself from slapping him. He was fairly certain Cassandra would have skewered him on the spot. He left. Cullen sighed.

“If you’re going to Val Royaux, the chancellor should give you an idea of what to expect.”

“Then let’s hope we find answers instead of a cathedral full of chancellors.” Varric grinned.

Cullen held back a laugh.

“The stuff of nightmares!”

Cassandra turned to him.

“Speaking of, we’re going to need your help for an operation…”

“We’ll take care of it at the table. Leliana!”

The spymaster joined the group. They caught Josephine on the way and gathered in the room at the end of the Chantry, where the war table was set.

“So?” Cullen asked. “Cassandra, you told me you need my help for an operation.”

“The farmers of the Hinterlands need watchtowers to be warned ahead of danger.” Cassandra explained. “If we do that, Dennet will give us his horses.”

“This can easily be arranger. My men will have it done in no time. Something else?”

“Yes. Leliana…”

“Excuse me, Seeker, but aren’t you forgetting something?”

Everyone turned to Varric, who had entered the room.

“Forgetting what, Varric?”

“A small argument a Winterwatch Tower. An argument that left Spiky in a rather fool mood. How did he say it, already? _You only need me as a figurehead and to close the rifts_. I believe those were his words.”

Sora looked down. He remembered the argument. Cassandra, Cullen, Josephine and Leliana looked at one another.

“This is… not completely wrong.” Cassandra admitted. “But Sora is a child. That aside, what could he do?”

“We spent the past few days cleaning up the Hinterlands and you’re still asking me!?”

“Varric…”

Cullen frowned.

“Cassandra is right. The mark is truly the only reason I’m leaving Sora hit the field. Even gifted with magic and sword, the thoughts of a child on the frontlines disgusts me. No child should be a soldier.”

“No one here is questioning his skills.” Leliana reassured. “During these past days, though he isn’t as good as we are, Sora still proved he could defend himself, and well. But, morally speaking, a child shouldn’t have to endure what he went through. That’s simply not right.”

Varric shook his head.

“No one’s doubting that. The question is: what can he do, along with being a figurehead and closing rifts? I’m not talking about fighting. I got the idea Spiky would like to be a little more involved in the Inquisition’s business.”

“It’s true…” Sora admitted.

Cullen nearly choked.

“A child in command!?”

“And why not?” Josephine asked. “Maybe not in command, but every leader has to start somewhere! Better he learns here with us. And besides, people call him the Herald of Andraste. They look up to him, even though he’s just a child. Sora has nothing to lose in learning how to lead. In the long run, it can only serve him.”

Cassandra didn’t really seem to agreed, but she granted her the point. Leliana nodded.

“Thinking about it, Josephine isn’t wrong. Shall we start the lesson?”

Cullen shrugged in agreement. Josephine took three pawns, one with a fist, another with a crow and a third with bells. She looked at Sora.

“As you know, the Breach made Thedas highly unstable. There are conflicts everywhere, and we cannot afford to send you to solve everyone of them – not to mention you don’t always have the required skills. Not all problems involve rifts.”

Leliana took the crow pawn.

“People are relying on the Inquisition to restore order, and they send us many requests. When we don’t need to send you, we send other agents to do the job.”

Cullen took the fist pawn.

“Those requests take many shapes and don’t always require the same response. As an example, building watchtowers for the refugees of the Hinterlands.”

Josephine shook the bell-topped pawn.

“Rather than sending our men, I can ask nobles of Redcliffe to handle it. I know some of them will be glad to help the Inquisition. But the option to use our men for this mission remains suitable.”

Sora hesitated.

“I’d rather we did it. We’re the ones Bron asked, so it’s up to us.”

Cullen smiled and took a card.

“Very well. I will send a message to our men. This shouldn’t take too long.”

He put the card and the pawn near the marker indicating the Hinterlands. Josephine nodded.

“A relevant choice and explanation. Now, we received other requests… including one from Varric. We better deal with it.”

Varric smiled and sighed.

“It’s quite simple, Ruffles: I need a little favor. Actually, let’s call it a loan since I’ll pay it back. I got a letter from my editor in Kirkwall saying that a book called Hard in Hightown 3: The Re-Punchening came out from an Antivan printer a couple weeks ago. I’ll give you a moment to contemplate the horror that is that title.”

“I concur.” Leliana winced. “Whoever came up with that title is seriously lacking in taste.”

Varric nodded.

“I had my contacts in the Merchants Guild look for the author and all they could find after spending a couple hundred gold was that Pyrral Bhelenforth is a pen name… Thank you, I could’ve told you that for free. Ruffles, you got contacts with the Antivan print houses. Maybe you could find out more than the guilds.”

Leliana crossed her arms.

“If this author has evaded the Merchants Guild, the Crows might be a better choice for investigating him. Sora, what do you think?”

“…What are the Antivan Crows?”

Everyone looked at each other.

“It’s the first time I meet someone who hasn’t heard about the Crows.” Cullen noted.

“The Antivan Crows are an assassin’s guild – and one of the best with the Orlesian House of Repose.” Josephine explained.

“Then we’re better asking them. Hunting people is part of their job, right?”

“Indeed.”

Leliana took a card and put it with the crow pawn next to Kirkwall.

“One last request to complete this lesson.” Josephine finished. “The Teyrnir of Highever sent a letter of condolences for the loss of Justinia V. They plan to hold a vigil at Highever and politely invited us. We discussed it when we received the message and haven’t yet decided how to answer it. We all have different opinions. Let us see which you’ll find the most appropriate…”

Cullen took a fist pawn.

“We have a number of Fereldan officers. We could send an honor guard to Highever.”

“I know Teyrn Fergus.” Leliana offered. “His sister, Queen Elissa, is a dear friend, as was Justinia. I can’t go to the vigil, but I could write to him.”

Josephine smiled.

“Finally, I can send a diplomatic attaché and some of the Templars who knew the Divine. So, what’s your choice?”

Sora took the time to think.

“…Cullen is already busy in the Hinterlands. A letter would be nice, but it would be even better if we were there. Let’s go with your idea, Josephine. And besides, if some Templars knew the Divine, I think they’d like to attend the vigil to properly mourn.”

Cassandra didn’t hide her smile.

“That’s kind of you. Now, the less entertaining part: what to do with the Chantry’s accusations?”

Leliana shook her head.

“Mother Giselle gave me the names of the priestesses behind the accusations. Personally, I think it’s just slander.”

“This slander still damages our reputation enough that neither Mages nor Templars want to join us.” Josephine retorted. “That Sora talks to the priestesses isn’t a bad idea.”

Cullen growled.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Mother Giselle isn’t wrong. Right now, the Chantry’s sole strength is its unity.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Leliana said firmly. “Val Royaux is a viper’s den.”

“But we don’t have a choice, right?” Sora asked. “As long as the Chantry will speak ill of us, nobody will want to help us. They need to stop.”

“Indeed, and this is why I’ll go with you.”

Everyone turned to Cassandra. The warrior crossed her arms.

“Sora needs someone to watch over him. I will protect him during our stay in Val Royaux. Josephine, gather the priestesses. When they’ll be ready, so will we.”

Varric and Solas instantly decided to tag along. When Sora would head to Val Royaux, he would have the best escort there was. The priestesses answered a few days later: they were ready to meet them.

Sora had spent the past days recovering from the Hinterlands. The wolf fur had been turned into a warm cape that easily clipped on his armor, protecting him from the mountain cold. Talking with Varric had him learn more about the dwarf’s literary works. Naturally, he had asked to read them.

“I would have lent them my copy of _Tales of a Champion_ , but it has a hole in it.” Cassandra winced. “Try this in the meantime.”

She had given him a book: _The Grey Company, a Tale of the Fifth Blight_. Sora had instantly devoured it.

“Leliana was really there?”

“Indeed. She followed the Grey Company during the Fifth Blight. This was before becoming the Left Hand of the Divine. I heard she was still in contact with the Company’s survivors.”

“It’s true.” Leliana smiled. “Sereda and I still write to each other. She and Faren lead the Fereldian Wardens while Alistair and Elissa rule over Ferelden.”

“What about the others?” Cassandra asked. “When we asked the Company’s help to lead the Inquisition, all refused while saying they were already busy with something else.”

Leliana thought.

“Sereda and Faren lead the Grey Wardens, Alistair and Elissa rule over Ferelden, Daylen is with Morrigan and their son, Theron is looking for a remedy against the Calling and Kallian sacrificed herself to kill Urthemiel. No one is available.”

“…Alright. If you say so.”

At last, they hit the road. Before leaving Leliana gave Sora a simple knife, its grip wrapped in red tissue.

“Even though you have your sword and your magic, having a knife on you is always useful. You never know. One advice, though: keep it hidden.”

Sora took the weapon and hid it in his boot. The journey was fairly eventless, enough for Sora to further his reading. The book told the adventures of the Grey Company, the Fereldian Grey Wardens who had stopped the Fifth Blight: Theron the Hunter, a deadly Dalish archer who had accidentally gotten the Taint; Kallian the Widow, a city elf who had slaughtered her husband’s murderer, killed on the very day of their wedding; Sereda the Fallen, banished from Orzammar following a coup by her younger brother Bhelen; Faren the Outcast, the deadliest Casteless duelist the dwarves had ever seen; Daylen the Healer, whose words and magic healed the body and the heart; Elissa the Shield, the ferocious protector of the strange motley of improbable friends and Alistair the Heir, illegitimate brother of king Cailan yet still in line for the throne.

With the help of their friends, Morrigan, Leliana, Sten, Zevran, Wynne, Oghren and Shale, the Company had gathered the Circle Mages, the Dalish clans, the dwarves of Orzammar and the Fereldian nobility after discovering the Temple of Sacred Ashes and saving the life of Arl Eamon. Then, after exposing Loghain’s treason, Alistair had finally avenged his brother and his mentor and neatly beheaded the traitor during a duel. Urthemiel had then struck Denerim… Unfortunately, as the Company learned, killing an Archdeamon required the sacrifice of a Warden. Morrigan offered to perform a ritual: she would conceive a child that would become the vessel of the corrupted deity’s soul, thus sparring the killer’s life. Naturally, having fallen in love with the witch, Daylen volunteered. But Kallian didn’t see it that way. The city elf sabotaged the ritual and, when the time came to deal the final blow to the Archdeamon, her daggers tore open its throat… and her soul took the god’s along. The Widow had planned her sacrifice long before and could now join her husband in the beyond.

The Company mourned their friend while Ferelden celebrated the end of the Blight. Kallian’s body was taken to Weisshaupt while the Grey Company scattered, but not before witnessing Alistair and Elissa’s wedding. Daylen and Morrigan left to raise the child the witch was carrying while Theron, Sereda and Faren restored the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Sten returned to his people, taking along Bunny, Kallian’s pet mabari. Oghren eventually joined the Wardens while Zevran went Crow hunting. Wynne went back to the Circle and later found herself involved in the events that would lead to the Mage Rebellion. Shale was with her at the time. Finally, Leliana was asked by Divine Justinia V to become her Left Hand. She took the offer.

Sora wasn’t finished reading when they reached Val Royaux. The city’s sight amazed him, all in whites, golds and bright colors, with every passer-by wearing a mask and vibrantly-colored clothes. Varric smiled.

“So excited he can’t sit down.”

Cassandra was also smiling. Even though she despised Orlesian mentality, she had to admit the city was pretty. And Sora’s good mood was contagious. After all he’d gone through, it was nice to see him genuinely happy.

The priestesses were waiting for them at the Summer Market. As they reached the gates, an agent of Leliana went to them.

“Lord Herald…”

“You are one of our own.” Cassandra noted. “What have you for us?”

The agent winced.

“The Chantry Mothers are there… along with a significant number of Templars.”

The new took Cassandra aback.

“The Templars are there?”

It took Sora a moment to understand the problem.

“…If I remember right, the Templars broke away from the Chantry at the beginning of the war. Jeremiah once told me he didn’t agree.”

“Indeed, Lord Seeker Lambert declared void the Nevarran Accords, which bound the Seekers of Truth and the Templars to the Chantry. Yet, the Templars are here… Something’s going on.”

Varric shrugged.

“If we’re lucky, they are supporters of the Accords. If we’re unlucky, it’s a stab in the back.”

Sora danced on his feet.

“After all that happened… I hope they are supporters but I expect a backstab.”

“They gathered on the other side of the market.” The agent informed them. “I think this is where the Templars are waiting.”

“Then there’s only one thing to do. Go back to Haven. We may be… delayed.”

The agent left. The group headed to the marketplace. Standing on a stage, flanked by the Templars, the Mothers were stirring up the crowd, openly denigrating the teen. For a moment, Sora wondered what he’d done to deserve such words.

“I pretend nothing.” He ended saying. “All I want, all the Inquisition is trying to do, is closing the Breach and dealing with the one behind it.”

Cassandra glared at the priestesses.

“And don’t you dare say it’s Sora. Ever since we found him at the Temple, he has done everything he could to help us. His innocence is no longer the question, so enough of these words!”

The priestess looked down on her.

“You are the Right Hand of the Divine… So, even Justinia’s closest servitors turned against the Chantry… but the Templars have returned! They will face this Inquisition and protect the people–”

The Templars didn’t let her finish. One of them hit her in the head. The priestess collapsed. Sora held the urge to lunge at them.

“What the – Aren’t you supposed to work together!?”

Varric sighed.

“Backstab, as expected.”

Cassandra kept looking at one of the Templars.

“It’s Lord Seeker Lucius. I know him but… why is he acting like this?”

The Lord Seeker left the stage. She neared him.

“Lord Seeker –”

“You will not address me!” The leader rebuffed her. “Creating a heretical movement, raising a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed…” He turned to the crowd. “You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who have failed, you who’d leash our virtuous swords with doubt and fear! You came to appeal to the Chantry … You are too late. The only Destiny that demands respect is mine.”

Sora turned to Cassandra, who was obviously nervous.

“He is always like that or there’s something wrong with him?”

“Something is wrong.” The Seeker grumbled. “The Lord Seeker was a decent man who was never given to ambition and grandstanding. This isn’t the man I knew.”

Sora decided to near one of the Templars – and froze almost instantly. It didn’t come from all of them, but some members of the order gave a nefarious aura that was hard to perceive.

An aura that reminded him of the Darkness of his original universe.

There was something extremely wrong going with the order. And even the Lord Seeker, now he thought about it, had something strange in him… Something inhuman. He would have to tell Leliana and pray it was only his head.

Lucius addressed the group.

“I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void. We deserve recognition and independence. You have showed me nothing and the Inquisition less than nothing. Templars!” He turned to his men. “Val Royaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!”

The Templars followed their leader. Sora, Cassandra, Varric and Solas gathered.

“Charming, isn’t he?” Varric sneered.

Solas sighed.

“With such a leader, no wonder the war lasted. In a way, I was sort of expecting this kind of character.”

“Something is wrong with the Lord Seeker.” Cassandra said, tense. “As soon as we’re back to Haven, I will warn Leliana.”

“It’s not just the Lord Seeker.” Sora retorted. “Some Templars are… strange. Dark. I daresay corrupted.”

“Corrupted?” Solas asked. “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know. It’s just the feeling they give me.”

He didn’t dare to talk about hearts and Darkness. It wasn’t how Thedas worked. Maybe later, after careful thinking, he would be able to talk about it using Thedosian words, but not at the moment.

The Chantry mothers were in deep disarray. The Templars’ knife in the back had taken all of them by surprise and they were completely helpless. But Sora still felt pity. Even if they had opposed him and the Inquisition, they didn’t deserve such treason. The Revered Mother looked at him.

“Tell me only one thing: do you believe you were chosen by the Creator?”

Again with that question.

Had he been chosen by the Keyblade? Obviously not, but it hadn’t stopped him from traveling the worlds with Donald and Goofy to save the Princesses of Heart – they had failed on this side – and protect the worlds from the darkness – they had been more successful about it. In the end, Riku had taken the Keyblade and his friends and sent him off with a fireball in his stomach. Ungrateful bastards.

Was he the chosen one? He didn’t know, only that he had the power to help and he intended to use it as long as he possessed it or until the mark was no longer needed. After what had happened with the Keyblade, he didn’t want to make the same mistake, to believe himself chosen if him possessing the mark was pure coincidence. He far preferred to focus on what he could do. Everything else, he didn’t care.

“Does it truly matter?”


	6. Unlikely allies

The Aegis led him to the center of the great host,  
And Shartan saw that they counted  
 **Men and women of all descriptions among them.**  
Many bore the scars of escaped slaves,  
And some had come west from the coastlands  
And they stood as equals beside the wild giant men of the South.  
Shartan 9:22

Even though they were done with Val Royaux, Sora decided to linger to visit.

The capital city was amazing. People and buildings were equally colorful and the teenager had no shame doing some window-shopping. Cassandra let him. Even though he was the Herald of Andraste and the only person in Thedas able to close the rifts, Sora remained a fourteen-year-old teen. Opportunities for him to act his age were rare enough as they were. She settled for following him, a maternal smile on her face.

Sora was watching freshly-baked cupcakes and wondering which one to take when a messenger from the Circle came to him.

“Herald? I got a message for you, an invitation from Madame de Fer.”

Sora took the mail.

_You are cordially invited to attend my salon held at the Chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain._   
_Yours,_   
_Vivienne de Fer_   
_First Enchantress of Montsimmard_   
_Enchantress to the Imperial Court_

Cassandra frowned.

“Vivienne de Fer… If my memories serve me, she was one of the most favorable to the maintain of the Circles. She is also an influential woman.”

“More allies would be welcome.” Solas noted. “Even though I don’t like the Circles, her experience could be useful. Going to this party isn’t a bad idea.”

Sora hesitated.

“A party… We’re gonna have a problem, then.”

“What is it, Spiky?”

“I got nothing to wear!”

Varric laughed.

“Well, let’s remedy that, shall we?”

He took the teen by the wrist and dragged him to a shop. They left an hour later with a fine-looking red, white and gold tailor-made suit. Cassandra nodded. The outfit fit him. They had barely made three steps when an arrow struck the ground before them. Varric took a step back.

“What was that?”

That was a message written in flowing letters and lined with doodles offering to find people who wanted to hurt them. All they had to do was finding “red stuff” at the docks, the marketplace and near the café. Sora decided to be curious and went looking for them. Cassandra approved. If they were being offered their enemies on a silver platter, it would be stupid to skip it.

At the docks, they found a key wrapped in a handkerchief. At the café, they found a destination written in red at the back of a stable report. On a balcony over the marketplace, folded in a red sock, they found a piece of parchment with an hour. Varric crossed his arms.

“An hour, a place and a key. I wonder what this little paper chase will give…”

“We will have to not linger too long at Madame De Fer’s party if we want to be on time.” Cassandra noted. “But this should be doable.”

“Then let’s go to the party.” Sora decided. “The sky is getting colorful.”

They had reached the market’s exit when an elf came to them. Cassandra recognized her instantly.

“Grand Enchantress Fiona?”

“The leader of the rebel mages.” Solas remarked. “Isn’t it dangerous for you to show up there?”

“I heard about this gathering.” Fiona explained. “I wanted to see the Herald with my own eyes.”

Sora rolled his eyes.

“I know, I’m a kid, it’s not the first time I hear that.”

“I was told you were young.” Fiona reassured. “Even as a teen, a mage remains a mage. Whoever can harness magic remains dangerous, no matter the age. And I see you wield a sword as well. Usually, only Knight-Enchanters combine magic and swordsmanship.”

“Sora never belonged to a Circle. His magic awoke after the war started.” Cassandra explained.

“Ah. In this case, I can only offer that you come and find us. Our magic could help you close the Breach, but not only. The skills of a mage are many and can be used equally for offense, technique and logistics.”

“Why not join us directly?” Sora asked. “You’re here, and we were going to request the help of the mages _and_ the Templars anyway.”

Fiona gave him a look.

“This is not how it works. There’s a time and place for everything. If you want us to join you, meet us in Redcliffe. We will be waiting.”

On this, she left. Sora sighed.

“Why can things never be simple? There’s a hole in the sky! If they want to help…”

“That’s politic for you, Spiky. Don’t worry.” Varric reassured. “You’re not the only one it drives crazy.”

Cassandra grumbled.

“Tell me about it!”

So, they headed to Duke Bastien’s Chateau. The gatekeeper only let Sora enter when they arrived.

“My sincerest apologies, but only the Herald was invited. I will ask you to remain outside.”

Sora winced.

“I never attended a party. I’m a little scared.”

“Smile, remain polite, treat everyone nicely even if they are complete morons and try not to draw your sword and everything will be fine.” Varric reassured.

“I’ll try. Thanks.”

He entered the castle and tried not to be intimidated by the style of the place. He was introduced as soon as he entered the main room.

“Ser Sora of Haven, representing the Inquisition.”

The nobles were wearing sophisticated clothes with flashy colors and were all wearing masks. Even with his red outfit, the teen didn’t really feel like he belonged. He was greeted by a couple whose faces were almost entirely hidden.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ser.” The man said. “It is so uncommon to meet someone new. Those parties draw almost always the same people.”

“Likewise.” Sora said politely.

The man nodded.

“You must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or maybe are you here for Duke Bastien?”

“Are you here for business?” The woman asked before he could answer. “I heard the strangest tales about you. If half of them are true…”

Sora grimaced.

“I don’t really know what people say about the Inquisition, but I doubt it’s anything nice if one considers the general opinion.”

“It’s less _good or worse_ and more _credible or incredible_.” The woman answered. “They say that, when the Veil was torn, Andraste herself brought you out of the Fade.”

“…I do remember a woman, but I don’t know whether or not it was Andraste. I don’t know what happened at the Conclave. I absolutely cannot recall the incident.”

“Ah. At least, you’re honest. It’s rare.”

“I don’t want to lie.” Sora said softly. “You never know when a lie will backfire, and I know from experience that it hurts when it happens, especially when you mistake the lie for a truth. Furthermore, along with trying to mend the sky, the Inquisition is also searching for the one who did it. We seek the truth. I don’t see how lying could be productive.”

The man nodded.

“Your honesty honors you. Even though lies are quite useful weapons in politics, it is understandable that the Inquisition would want to put all its cards on the table…”

“The Inquisition is a load of pig shit.”

All three turned to the man who said those words. It was a noble clad in gold and white, a sword hanging in his back. Sora frowned. Varric had told him to remain polite, but…

“Washed-up Sisters and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously. Everyone knows they’re just a bunch of political outcasts looking for an excuse to grab power.”

Sora discretely turned to the couple.

“Is he serious or is he looking for trouble?”

“He is trying to provoke you.” The man explained. “This is a challenge. I am most curious to see how you will rise to it…”

“I have no issue being insulted, but Cassandra, Varric and all the others are good people. I want to send him packing.”

He looked the swordsman dead in the eyes. The mark chose that time to stir. Sora yelped and jumped back, putting as much distance as possible between him and the nobles. He had no idea whatsoever what had caused the stirring or what would happen but, in any case, the further he was, the less victims it may end with. He cast a healing spell on his hand in an attempt to soothe the pain. The swordsman drew his weapon.

“And here is the magic that caused the Breach! Behold, everyone, the cursed mark that took the life of Divi –”

An ice spell froze him in the middle of his sentence. A woman came down the stairs, clad in an intricate gold and white dress, a hennin with twin twisted horns and a silver mask on her face. She utterly ignored the frozen noble and went to Sora.

“Dear, may I look at it?”

Sora hesitated. The mark was dangerous and he didn’t know the spellcaster. She held a hand.

“Don’t be afraid. I am the First Enchantress of Montsimmard. The magic of the Fade is not unknown to me.”

“…Madame de Fer?”

“That’s me indeed.”

Sora held his hand. Vivienne delicately took it and let her magic flow. Her healing spell was otherwise stronger and more polished than his.

“Most curious… It looks like you have a miniature rift in the palm of your hand. Does it hurt?”

“Only when it stirs. It feels like I have a thunder spell under the skin.”

Vivienne nodded. She had heard the Herald was young, but she had expected a teenager on the eve of adulthood, not a boy barely older than ten. This caught her curiosity. She turned to the frozen noble.

“My dear marquis, what an unkind language to use under my roof… toward my guests. You know such rudeness is _intolerable_.”

The noble gulped.

“Lady Vivienne, I humbly beg your forgiveness!”

“You should…” Vivienne caressed his face. “What should I do with you, my dear?”

She turned to Sora, who reflexively shuddered. The woman before him was _dangerous_. For a single moment, he remembered Sabor, the panther. Dark, feline, graceful in her words and her deeds, best not have her as a foe if you weren’t stupid. And, if he was naïve, Sora wasn’t an idiot.

“Dear, you are the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Sora glared at the marquis.

“I have no issue being insulted, but my friends are good people. They don’t deserve those mean words. Out of my sight, and may I never hear from you again or I’ll tell Cassandra about you and she won’t be happy.”

Vivienne smiled, amused. It almost seemed like the teen had just threatened the noble to tell his parents about him. Except, in this case, he was most likely talking about Cassandra Pentaghast, the former Right Hand of the Divine. She turned to the marquis.

“Poor marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldian dog-lord.”

The spell vanished in a finger snap. The marquis coughed. Vivienne looked down on him.

“And this all dressed in your aunt Solange’s doublet. Didn’t she give it to you to wear at the Grand Tourney? Wait…Didn’t all those brave chevaliers who will be competing leave this morning? And you are still there. Were you hoping to restore your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel, or did you think his sword could put an end to your misery? Run along, my dear, and do give my regards to your aunt.”

Sora gulped. The enchantress wasn’t one to be trifled with. Vivienne smiled, which didn’t reassure him the slightest.

“I am delighted you could attend this party, my dear. I so wanted to meet you.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint.” Sora said softly. “I unfortunately have that effect on people.”

Vivienne laughed.

“I admit I was expecting someone older, but everyone has to start somewhere.” Her eyes fell on the mark. “And something tells me you didn’t really have a say in the matter.”

“All I wanted was to visit the Temple because it was pretty. Then I draw a blank and wake up with the mark in my hand. I still don’t know what happened.”

The enchantress nodded.

“I figured as much. Come, let us talk somewhere more private.”

They found themselves in a long hallway with open windows. Vivienne turned to Sora.

“Allow me to introduce myself: I am Vivienne, First Enchantress of Montsimmard and Enchanter of the Imperial Court of Orlais.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Sora said politely. “I am… just Sora. That’s it. Besides the fact people consider me to be the Herald of Andraste, there’s nothing else to add.”

“Of course. For someone as young as you are, the opposite would have been surprising.” Her gaze became serious. “I wanted to meet you face to face. You are a person of importance and I wanted to know who you are.”

“And now, you do: a teenager bearing a potentially dangerous magic and, all in all, not capable of much on his own except closing rifts.”

The bitterness in his voice didn’t escape Vivienne, who quickly understood what was wrong. Despite his title, Sora had a poor opinion of himself. Why, she didn’t know, but the discovery was unexpected. She had believed a boy bearing the only magic capable of saving the world would be unbearably prideful. The teen was anything but that. His title of Herald of Andraste seemed to be more a source of embarrassment than pride, and if ignoring insults could be taken for disdain, it could also be within the realm of reason that it was plain and simple acceptance, and he believed those who insulted him weren’t wrong. If that was true, it was worrisome. She knelt to his level.

“Closing rifts isn’t nothing, Sweetheart, especially when you’re the only one who can do it. Furthermore, every magic is dangerous, not just the mark. Magic is like a sword that’s constantly drawn. We mages must simply learn how to use it, and I doubt this mark will be different. You’ll just need more dedicated training. You are a mage, aren’t you? I saw you heal your hand…”

“My magic awoke after the war started. I never knew a Circle, so… I’m more or less self-taught. Solas is currently teaching me.”

One more reason to join the Inquisition. Between the fact the Herald was an inexperienced child suffering either from depression or poor self-esteem, the Veil torn apart and demons falling from the sky, the Chantry utterly helpless and abandoned by the Templars, on top of the all-around chaotic situation, the organization had a lot on its hand and she had everything to gain helping them. A master of the Grand Game knew to turn any situation in their favor.

She gave the teen her most motherly smile.

“Sweetheart, many heroes have humble origins. Even then, they manage to overcome their modest origins thanks to their courage and experience. You aren’t so different: a blossoming bud, no longer a child but not yet an adult either. They say actions speak louder than words. Act, and let others boast for you. They are the ones who will build your reputation.”

“This is already what I endeavor to do. I know I can’t do much, but only I can do it…”

Vivienne laughed.

“A little ambition won’t hurt, Sweetheart. People call you the Herald of Andraste…”

“No one knows if the woman in the rift was Andraste or not. What if it wasn’t the case? What if…” Sora hesitated. “What if it was the Divine, who survived the explosion and gave her life so I could escape? What will people say? That I usurped my title? That it was all a coincidence and I was just the wrong guy at the wrong place? They will lose faith, they will lose _hope_. I’d rather hold my judgment before knowing the truth than takea pure supposition for a certified truth, and then it all falls apart when it turns to be groundless!”

Vivienne frowned. The teen’s opinion was reasonable, but also telling of his lack of experience. Fortunately, he wasn’t the one who was making decisions…

“I understand, Sweetheart. If you will allow me, I will join the Inquisition in Haven. My experience in the magical and political fields would be quite useful to you. And besides, if the world is truly ending, as everyone seems to believe, I will not wait with folded arms. I will face my fate, whatever it is.”

Sora nodded.

“All help is welcome, Madam. Furthermore, if I may say, you look really dangerous…”

Vivienne didn’t hide her smile.

“This isn’t a look, Sweetheart. This is a fact. We will meet again in Haven.”

They went their separate ways. Sora went to find Cassandra, Varric and Solas.

“So?” Solas asked.

“Vivienne chose to help us. Her skills will be useful, and she’d rather face the threat face-on instead of waiting.”

Cassandra nodded.

“Good. Let’s head to our second appointment.”

Finding the courtyard wasn’t hard. Sora had barely pushed the door that a fireball missed him by little. A spry noble weighted him up.

“Herald of Andraste! How much did you spend to find me? This should have put a damper on the Inquisition’s means.”

The group shared a look.

“Err… We don’t even know who you are.”

“Do not take me for a fool!” The noble looked offended. “I am too important for it to be an accident.”

“It was less an accident and more an anonymous tip.” Solas retorted, amused.

The noble growled. He was about to say something when noise caught his attention. One of his men collapsed, revealing an elven archer wearing a red top and yellow pants. She was blonde, her hair shortened by a bad haircut, and was holding a bow she had drawn in his direction.

“Just say one word!”

“What in the –”

The arrow struck him in the mouth. Sora winced. The elf made a disgusted face.

“You heard me, right? I said ‘ _only one word_ ’. Rich assholes who always want more than they deserve… Blahblahblah, ‘ _obey me_ ’, arrow in the face!” She recovered her arrow and turned to Sora. “Well, at least you followed the instructions. Glad to see you – Hey, you really _are_ a kid! And a cute one! You’re so sweet with your lil’ baby face…”

It wasn’t the first time someone called Sora a kid. It was, however, the first time someone found him cute. He nearly jumped when the elf took his face in her hands and started playing with it. Cassandra cleared her throat.

“Excuse me but who are you, exactly?”

“Uh? Oh, I’m Sera. My friends told me that doofus had a beef against the Inquisition and you should look into him. It’s you, right?”

She released Sora, who massaged his face with an embarrassed look. That she found him cute was one thing. That she played with his face was another. Sera looked at him.

“I mean, you’re the Herald, right? You’re the one who shines.”

“Who shines?”

“That’s what people say. You fell from a rift and now, you shine…”

“Ah, you mean the mark.”

Sora held the hand and focused some magic in his palm. The mark shone lightly as a prickling feeling invaded it. Sera tilted her head.

“It’s weird… and not right at all. Magic is generally not right, but this looks even worse.”

“I agree. When it’s quiet, all is fine. It’s when it gets agitated that it starts to hurt.”

Varric looked around him.

“I don’t know about you, but I was expecting more guards. What are they waiting for?”

Sera held a laugh.

“The Friends told me where they put their gear so I nicked it. Most likely, they didn’t want to show up _butt_ -naked!”

Sora laughed, and even Solas seemed amused by the prank.

“Defeat by modesty. Not a common tactic, but it works.”

Sera turned to Sora.

“Anyway, if you’re the Inquisition, well, I want in.”

“No problem. Welcome in. Thanks for helping with the noble.” Sora smiled.

Cassandra turned to him.

“You’re going to let her join just like that?”

“And why not? She wants to help and she helped us get rid of that noble because he was after us. Cassandra, we need all the help we can find.”

“Spiky isn’t wrong.” Varric nodded. “We aren’t to the point where we can afford to turn down someone. If Missus over there wants to lend us her arrows, we aren’t gonna say no.”

Sera laughed.

“You know what? I like you. You don’t bother with details and all those boring things. You go straight to the point, like an arrow. I think we’re gonna have lots of fun together.”

The group shared a look. Things were definitely going to be interesting.


	7. Who wards the Wardens ?

**In the absence of light, shadows thrive.**  
Threnodies 8:21

Night had long fallen, so they slept in one of Val Royaux’s many inns and left at dawn, Sera with them.

As they soon noticed, the elf was… very special. She had instantly adopted Sora, who she found adorable and acted toward him like an elder sister. Sora felt embarrassed, but he still greatly appreciated that Sera treat him like a regular person. Things were different with the rest of the group. Though she loved teasing Cassandra whenever she could, her attempts with Varric were met with much less success. The dwarf’s comebacks were impressive.

As for Solas, the rogue infuriated the mage while being terrified of him.

“I can’t believe it.” Solas sighed. “Sera is only elven of body. The rest is… human. Utterly and completely human. This isn’t right.”

“Tutelage makes the person, Chuckles.” Varric wisely said. “In a way, she and I aren’t so different. We are the perfect opposite of every single racial stereotype.”

“True enough. I’ll need time to get used to it…”

He turned to Sera.

“Speaking of, I noticed you have a strong distaste for magic, yet Sora’s company bothers you much less than mine. Is it because he’s human or is there another reason?”

Oddly enough, Sera didn’t answer at once. Usually, the archer answered the first thing that crossed her mind. That she took the time to weight her words was a rarity.

“It’s… How to say? He’s not a real mage. I mean, he’s not a mage-mage, those guys who throw fireballs everywhere or bleed to summon demons. Sora, he’s not like that. For starters, he got a sword, so he’s not completely a mage. He’s a warrior, too. And besides, his magic, it’s not all fireballs and ice walls. It’s… nice. Yeah, that’s it. His magic is nice. There’s a bolt falling on you, except no because there’s a wall of light that covers your head. You’re bleeding gallons because there’s a piss-tossing nob who put a sword in your stomach, except no because his magic closed the wound and you’re back in shape. You see what I mean? The other mages, the real ones, they use magic to hurt others. Not Sora. That’s his sword he uses to hurt others. He uses his magic to make you feel good.”

The explanation took everyone aback, Sora and Solas included.

“…It’s true that most mages forego any kind of martial formation to focus on their studies of magic. This said, now I think about it, there was once in Elvenhan a group of mages who wielded both sword and spell. People called them Arcane Warriors, Dirth’ena Enasalin. Knowledge which Leads to Victory. Those fighters used magic to strengthen themselves, thus gaining formidable skills to overpower their opponents from up close. I believe a modern equivalent of this art exists in the Knight-Enchanters.”

Cassandra was thoughtful.

“Something to look into, then. Given Sora’s current fighting style, if it is a full-blown discipline, it would be nice to find him a teacher.”

Sora didn’t say no. In Haven, Sera settled at the inn. They found Vivienne at the Chantry.

“So, an apostate?”

“That is correct, Enchanter. I did not train in your Circle.”

“Well, dear, I hope you can take care of yourself, should we encounter anything outside your experience.”

“I will try, in my own fumbling way, to learn from how you helped seal the rifts at Haven. Ah, wait. My memory misleads me. You were not there.”

Their very first conversation. Sora made himself a memo to never leave them alone in the same room. With such a varied crowd, the teen had made a mental list of who went along – and not – with who. For now, there was Cassandra-Varric-Solas, Cassandra-Varric-Vivienne and Cassandra-Varric-Sera, with Solas, Vivienne and Sera to never leave alone together… and, even then, Cassandra didn’t seem to like the First Enchanter that much. On the other hand, the two women remained polite, so it was a good point.

Something was bothering Leliana. When he went looking for her to talk about the Templars, the spymaster was reading a report, frowning as her hood darkened her face.

“Bad news?” Sora asked.

“Worrisome. I am in constant contact with the Fereldian Grey Wardens through Faren and Sereda. The reports they send me are… intriguing. The Wardens’ high command recalled everyone for a reason they refused to explain, but Sereda and Faren outright refused to leave Amaranthine and Vigil’s Keep. Not only that, they also told me the Orlaisian Wardens were looking for something at the Storm Coast. Sereda sent Nathaniel Howe to keep an eye on them and, if needed, snatch it from under their nose. Finally, an Orlaisian Warden was noticed in the Hinterlands. Sereda suggests we deal with them while they handle the Wardens on the Coast.”

“Hearing you, it seems like the Fereldian Wardens don’t get along with the others.”

“Indeed. The other Wardens stayed and watched as the Fifth Blight ravaged Ferelden. The Company never really forgave them. End result: the Fereldian Grey Wardens are considerably more independent than those of other countries.”

Sora nodded. Leliana smiled.

“This said, all isn’t bad news. It isn’t a Blight, but the Wardens never have much to do between them. Sereda and Faren consider the Rifts as great a threat as the Darkspawn, so they decided to send help. They should arrive soon.”

Sora smiled. He had heard of the Grey Wardens’ prowess and was curious to see them at work.

“Speaking of, you wanted something?”

“Yes, it’s about the Templars we met at Val Royaux. I don’t know if it’s the Mark or something else but, when I got close, I sensed something dark and corrupted in them. It wasn’t in all of them but… Even Cassandra thought Lord Seeker Lucius was strange.”

Leliana frowned deeply.

“Thanks for the warning. According to our spies, the Templars retreated in Therinfal Redoubt. I’ll see if we can’t infiltrate the place.”

Sora nodded and went to the training grounds. When he was in Haven, he and Cullen had arranged regular training sessions, usually the afternoon. Morning was for Solas’s lessons. He was working on his footwork when Vivienne found them. Sora could tell from the look on her face she was surprised.

“Sweetheart, I thought you were a mage.”

“I was training swordsmanship before my magic awoke.” The teen explained. “I don’t want to give up one to focus on the other.”

A bright smile grew on the enchantress’s face. Taking the guard of a blade-less sword, she focused. A blade of pure magic appeared.

“Sweetheart, you could have said so earlier. I am a Knight-Enchanter myself. You won’t find better to teach you to combine magic and swordsmanship.”

“Solas told me about it.” Sora remembered. “He said elves once had a mage caste called Arcane Warriors, who are the ancestors of the Knight-Enchanters.”

Vivienne pouted haughtily.

“Our apostate friend says many things, even though I have to admit his knowledge of the Veil surprises me at times. Come on, Sweetheart. If you feel up to it, we shall have our first lesson…”

It quickly became clear that, despite her haughty looks, the Orlaisian enchantress was an exceptional teacher. By the end of the day, Sora had managed to summon a Spirit Blade with the guard she’d lent him. Vivienne promised him she would get one through her contacts that would be solely his. Two days later, he knew to use Shimmering Shield.

It was also that day the help promised by the Grey Wardens arrived. Sora watched the ten warriors – three dwarves, five men and two elves. Leliana instantly recognized two of the dwarves.

“Faren! Oghren!”

“Hey, Sister!” Oghren grinned. “It’s been a while!”

“It has been some time indeed.” Faren agreed. “You don’t come often to Amaranthine. Your duties as the Left Hand keep you busy?”

“Left Hand duties and Spymaster of the Inquisition. None are a pleasure cruise, but someone has to do it. Who are your comrades?”

Faren turned to the Wardens.

“Besides Oghren, the missus with the two axes is Sigrun, a former Legionary of the Dead. The elves are Velanna Adahlan, a former Keeper apprentice and Alim Surana, who joined us soon after the start of the War. As for the humans, the big burly guy with the claymore is Carver Hawke, the roguish archer is Solona Lendon – never call her by her last name. She never said why but she hates her family. The fighter with the sword and shield is Irmeric Eremon, one of Arlessa Alfstanna’s sons. After we won against Loghain, she drove him to join us more or less as a proof of loyalty. Finally, the twins with the knives are thieves who had the bad idea to try and pick my pockets… I know, they barely look old enough to be adults. What can you do? Poverty, I know. Eimar is the blue-eyed redhead and Gwen has grey eyes. They may lack a bit of battle experience but, when it comes to stealth, there’s no better besides me.”

Leliana looked at the group. Sereda wasn’t there, but it was easy to guess why. The couple shared duty as Wardens-Commanders. They could afford to act separately, one going to the field while the other stayed at the Keep – and could thus watch over the twins they had the chance to have. Fertility among the Wardens was extremely low, but babies happened. Leliana knew Alistair and Elissa had managed to have an heir, a son they had called Duncan in memory of their mentor. Sereda and Faren, meanwhile, had been lucky enough to have twins, a boy and a girl called Duran and Natia. Whoever wanted to hurt them would have to face every single Fereldian Warden, who knew how precious one of their children was.

Faren himself was surprisingly svelte for a dwarf, being lither than Oghren and Varric. His beard was cut short in a black carpet that covered the chin and the cheeks – longer than a two o’clock shadow but still too short to be braided. Finally, his steel-grey eyes had a scheming spark in them, as if the duelist was constantly analyzing his surroundings. He was wearing the Wardens’ leather armor without the helmet, and two dwarven-style daggers were on his sides.

Faren turned to Sora.

“Who’s the kid? It’s rare to see lads so young in a camp…”

“Sora is the Herald of Andraste.” Leliana explained. “He is the one with the power to close the rifts. As for his age, don’t judge him by it. Between his sword and his magic, he is perfectly able to defend himself.”

Alim raised a brow.

“Sword and magic? It’s not every day you meet a mage who uses both.”

“Vivienne is teaching me the art of the Knight-Enchanters.” Sora explained. “My magic awoke after the War started.”

“Ah.”

While the Wardens settled, Sora, Faren and Leliana went to the Chantry. They were called midway by a warrior with a slight Tevinteri look.

“Excuse me.” He said politely. “I have a message for the Inquisition but I don’t know who to hand it to.”

“Tell us.” Sora suggested.

“Well, here it is: Bull’s Chargers have heard of a gathering of Tevinteri mercenaries on the Storm Coast. If you’re interested, our boss, Iron Bull, is waiting for you there.”

Leliana glowered.

“Tevinteri. It’s never a good thing when they put their nose in something.”

Sora looked at the fighter.

“Who are Bull’s Chargers?”

“A mercenary company. I am Cremisius Aclassi, Bull’s right-hand man.”

Sora nodded.

“Worth it. More allies are always a good thing.”

Faren grinned.

“I had a favor to ask in the Hinterlands. It won’t be that big a detour.”

“We’ll meet at the Storm Coast, then.” Krem smiled.

As soon as he was gone, the war council gathered with Faren and Cassandra.

“So, what’s the request?” Leliana asked.

“Two things, Sister. The first is simple: there’s an Orlaisian Warden who’s been spotted doing some recruitment in the Hinterlands. A brother he may be, Ferelden remains our turf. That stupid lion has nothing to do here. So, if you could kindly tell him to move out…”

“We were already going to deal with it.” Sora noted. “What’s the other thing?”

Faren winced.

“I’m only telling you because Leliana rode with us during the Blight and because it happened right after the Breach opened, so I surmise both events are tied. The Calling rang across the Order.”

Leliana froze.

“The Calling? The one that echoes when a Warden reaches the end of their life?”

Faren nodded.

“The source of a Warden’s power comes from the Darkspawn blood he ingests during the Joining. Normally, the cocktail slows its effects, but the fact still remains that the Darkspawns’ blood is slowly corrupting us. It’s just that it happens over twenty to thirty years instead of a handful of days. When the corruption reaches a specific point and a Warden begins to transform into a ghoul, he hears a song named the Calling. That’s our cue that we need to go to the Deep Roads and, rather than letting the transformation run its course, we dive into the fray to kill as many Darkspawns as we can before they kill us – which should happen sooner or later if we find a big enough nest.”

“Ouch.” Sora winced.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a pleasant fate.” Faren sighed. “But there are always Darkspawns lurking around, and you won’t find better than a Warden to get rid of them. The problem is that the Calling has rung for everyone, from our oldest veterans to the recruits that had just passed their Joining. And that is absolutely not normal.”

“That’s for sure.” Leliana growled. “And you say the Calling rang soon after the Breach opened?”

“Yes. That’s why we think both events are tied. We all agreed among the Order that this Calling is a fake. There is something out there imitating the chant of an Archdemon. Why, I don’t know but, in Ferelden, we aren’t morons. We won’t fall for that, it’s too obvious. So, in the meantime, we ignore it while looking for the son of a nug who’s doing that. Sereda sent a message to Daylen and Morrigan and set our mages to explore the Fade. Chances are very likely the answer’s there.”

Cullen balled his fists.

“Got it. I will ask our mages to do the same. And the Wardens from the other countries?”

“That’s where the shoe pinches: we got no new from them. Gone, disappeared, vanished. Theron leads the hunt with the others, but Thedas is huge. We’ll need help if we want to find them.”

“The Inquisition lacks influence at the moment.” Josephine winced. “We cannot afford to spread ourselves, not with the Templars acting weirdly and the mages holing in Redcliffe.”

Cassandra nodded.

“One thing at a time. We will tell some of our mages to explore the Fade – Solas is an expert in the field – while we’ll find the Warden in the Hinterlands. Next, the Storm Coast. Sora, is it fine with you?”

“That’s logical.” The teen approved. “We leave when you want.”

“Sooner will be the best.” Faren said. “There are few Darkspawns these days, so Sereda and I put the Wardens on rift duty, to limit the collateral damage.”

The initiative was respectable. Cullen told them along the way that the watchtowers were complete. When they went to the Hinterlands, they could inform Master Denett.

Cassandra at his side, Sora called Varric, Solas, Vivienne and Sera and left Haven. The way was fairly eventless, even though he had to play mediator a few times. Vivienne, Sera and Solas liked him enough to remain polite around him.

They found the Warden on the shores of Lake Luthias as he stirred-up a trio of conscripts. Sora had barely come closer that a bunch of highwaymen attacked. The teen reacted instinctively and called a Barrier on the group before summoning his Spirit Blade and jumping in the fray. The bandits didn’t last long. The Warden knelt before one of the corpses and sighed.

“Poor sods…”

The gesture surprised Sora. The Warden turned to the conscripts and smiled.

“Well done. This shouldn’t have happened but it can’t be helped. Thieves aren’t born. They become so. Take back what they stole and go back to your families. You know how to defend yourselves, now.”

Sora raised a brow. He had read the book about the Grey Company and had talked quite a bit with Faren. The Warden’s behavior was strange. He turned to him.

“You’re quite young to wander the countryside, boy. Are you lost?”

“I’m with the Inquisition.” Sora answered. “My name is Sora. And you are?”

“Blackwall. You’re young to be on the field.”

A smile crossed the teen’s face.

“Between my sword and my magic, I can defend myself. Besides, I am primarily a healer. As for you, you belong to the Wardens, right? You bear their emblem on your armor.”

Blackwall nodded.

“Indeed, even though I haven’t heard of them for a while. I travel alone, recruiting left and right. Well, I say recruit… There are neither Archdemon to slay nor Blight to stop so we don’t really need to. Instead, since a Warden has the right to requisition what they need, I *conscripted* those morons’ victims and taught them to defend themselves. They won’t need me next time.”

“Strange… but respectable. There’s just a problem. You’re Orlaisian, right?”

“Yes. Why?”

Sora winced.

“Well, let’s say the Fereldian Wardens are none too fond of their Orlaisian colleagues, so if you could go back home…”

Blackwall was visibly pained by the remark.

“I…I didn’t know. Wait, you belong to the Inquisition, right?” The Warden hesitated. “There is a hole in the sky. Such situation is nearly as bad as a Blight. Someone needs to deal with it… and you’re obviously the ones at it. I wish to join.”

Sora hesitated. The offer had caught him off guard.

“I hope Faren won’t be mad. We need all the help we can get. Welcome in, Warden Blackwall.”

His friends were naturally surprised to see the Warden join them. Sora sent a message to Faren and they were on their way. To his surprise, Blackwall and Sera quickly became friends.

“Do all Grey Wardens have beards?”

“No, just me. I stole all the beards... and all the power held within! There can be only one!”

“Hahahaha!”

However, he and Vivienne could barely stand each other. The enchantress was condescending toward the warrior, who had trouble accepting her behavior. Fortunately, things were much better with Varric and Cassandra. Cassandra seemed to greatly respect Blackwall, who appreciated her fighting skills. Finally, Solas had caught his curiosity and it happened that the Warden behaved like Sera, but it was the exception more than the rule.

They stopped by Redcliffe’s farms to see Denett. The horse master was thankful for the towers and gladly joined the Inquisition when Cassandra asked. Sora appreciated. They needed skillful folks to make up for the small size of their group. Finally, after long days of riding, they reached the Storm Coast. They were welcomed by Harding and a Warden with long black hair and a bow.

“Nathaniel Howe, at your service. Commander warned us of your arrival.”

“Nice to meet you.” Sora grinned. “What’s new?”

“Tevinteri on the beach, a wandering Vinsomer and Inquisition scouts kidnapped by a group called the Blades of Hessarian. However, the Blades of Hessarian have a rule to not attack anyone bearing a pendant called Mercy’s Crest. Harding took the liberty of crafting one. According to her, you like to make friends, so she thought…”

“I thought you would rather negotiate with the Blades instead of rushing in for a slaughter.” Harding finished. “Am I wrong?”

“No.”

Sora took the necklace and put it on. The golden chain contrasted with his silver pendant.

“Where are the Tevinteri, exactly?”

“Just below. They… Uh? Someone decided to pipe us at the post.”

Sora and the group edged closer to the cliff. From there, they could see several groups charge the imperials. Cassandra crossed her arms.

“A mercenary company came to find us at Haven, to tell us about this problem. Do you think it’s them?”

Sora drew his sword.

“Only one way to know.”

Along with Howe, the group went down the cliff and dived in the scuffle. The Warden’s arrows struck a swordsman while Varric and Sera focused their shots on the mages. Vivienne wove her icy magic across the battlefield, Solas twisted the Veil without ripping it, Blackwall and Cassandra swung their sword and Sora healed any downed mercenary, his sword blocking those of the men-at-arms when it didn’t sneak in the flaws of their armor. The Tevinteri didn’t last long.

While a grey-skinned colossus with massive angular horns called the mercenaries back, one of them came to the group. Sora recognized him.

“Cremisius Aclassi?”

“Indeed. You’re the kid who took my message in Haven. You decided to come.”

“We had business on the Coast. Are those people the Chargers?”

“Yep. And the horned colossus is our leader, Iron Bull. He’s a Qunari.”

Sora had heard about them a little, mainly through the tale of the Grey Company. Iron Bull looked nothing like Sten. The Qunari went to the group.

“So, you’re the Inquisition. Glad you’re here. Sit down, the booze is on the way.”

Vivienne outright refused, and so did Sora.

“Sorry, I don’t drink.”

“True enough. You’re a kid. This said, you got skill for someone so young.”

The mark chose that moment to stir. Sora growled and cast a healing spell. Iron Bull watched it intensely.

“So, they weren’t joking… Rumor has it the one who can close the rifts is a lad barely above ten.”

“I am fourteen!”

“Well, you look much younger. No wonder you have an escort. Anyway, you saw us at work. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it, and we’re sure the Inquisition has the means to afford us.”

Sora turned to Cassandra.

“I’m tempted to say yes but, Cassandra?”

“No problem for me. And yes, we can afford them.”

“Good.” Bull said. “I’ll see with your ambassador for payment. There’s just a detail: it’s not just the Chargers you get. It’s me as well.”

He stood, and Sora suddenly fell very small. The teen barely reached the giant’s chest, who didn’t fail to notice.

“You can defend yourself, and the adults with you look even stronger than you, but I doubt it’s their job to play nanny. I’m not exactly a babysitter myself, but I’m definitively a bodyguard if you need one. Demons? Dragons? Bigger is better. Need someone to cover you while you close the rifts? I’m your man.”

The group shared a nervous look. Cassandra grumbled.

“I wouldn’t call it playing nanny, but watching over Sora is the very reason we accompany him. I admit it isn’t our job, but it isn’t a problem for us.”

“It’s alright, Cassandra.” Sora reassured. “I accept your offer. Welcome in, Iron Bull.”

The Qunari grinned.

“Thanks. Krem? The Chargers are hired! Tell the others to finish the booze on the way. You’re going to Haven.”

“But we just finished opening them, with axes.” The Tevinteri sighed. “You’re not coming, Boss?”

“Nope. I’m staying with the kid. I’m his bodyguard, now.”

Krem nodded. Sora turned to the cliffs.

“Next step: saving our men from the Blades of Hessarian. Afterward, we go look for what the Grey Wardens were searching for and we snatch it from beneath their nose, and we close any rift we find. The day will be long…”


End file.
